Five Becomes Four
by PiaculumDeFatum
Summary: I love you--those three words have my life in them.' After Sara leaves and Grissom chooses not to pursue her, Greg decides to go after her in hopes of bringing her back. Unrequited Sandle. Post-'You Kill Me.' Greg-centric.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:**__ Hi everyone, and welcome to another fantastic fanfic! A few things before we get started:_

_1) The fic takes place during and after "You Kill Me" from season 8 of CSI. Therefore, it contains spoilers up to that point. Don't read it you don't want it spoiled._

_2) The italicized lines at the beginning of every chapter come from the song "Five Becomes Four" by Yellowcard. The five and four that this refers to is Grissom's team (not including Grissom, since he leads the team)._

_3) The rating is T for generally dark thoughts and some coarse language. I doubt this will change._

_4) The "pairings" for this fic (if you want to call them that) are canon-GSR and unrequited Sandle. This is an extremely Greg-centric fic, and focuses a lot on his thoughts and feelings._

_5) I don't own CSI, any subsequent characters and plots, or the Yellowcard song._

_6) Chapter related things: this chapter contains dialogue from the episode "You Kill Me." You'll probably recognize them. There are very chapter that do this, since the fic takes off in a completely different direction after this chapter. So why did I include it? Well, as you'll see after reading the next chapter, Greg has many dark thoughts regarding Grissom's role in Sara's departure, and I wanted to give Grissom's side of things before bombarding you with Greg's._

_7) (Last one, I promise!) Please read and review! All feedback is welcome! I should be updating within the week, so let me know what you think! Thanks!_

Chapter 1

"_Needed some time  
So I could find  
A little strength to redefine"_

When Grissom saw Jim Brass coming at him, he wanted to turn around and walk the other way. It was nothing against Jim; Grissom simply wasn't sure if he was ready for the barrage of questions sure to follow Sara's sudden exit from Las Vegas. Still, there was no avoiding it, as Brass had already spotted Grissom and was hurrying in his direction. "Gil!" called Brass. "Are you going this way? Good, I am too."

Grissom forced a more pleasant onto his face as he and Jim walked together. Suddenly, he remembered something that he had been meaning to ask Brass about. "Ecklie's been on me to finish the monthly states, so I need a list of all the lab call-outs from dispatch as soon as you can," he informed Brass.

Nodding, Brass affirmed, "You'll have it by the end of shift tomorrow."

Grissom shot him a quick look. That was faster than Brass would normally have something like this done. He wondered vaguely what Brass was up to, but responded with a quick, "Thanks."

There was a brief pause before Brass said off-handedly, "So you've been pulling a lot of doubles this week."

Though there wasn't a question in that statement, Grissom felt obligated to answer. "Yeah, it's about all I do," he responded, hoping the humor would brush off what was sure to Brass's next question.

It didn't. "Have you been in touch with Sara?" asked Brass, his voice tinted with concern.

Grissom almost smiled at the predictability of the situation, but he thought better of it, opting for the easy answer and hoping that his unwillingness to talk about it would get Brass of his back. "We've talked a little."

If this information surprised Brass, he didn't show it. "So where's she at?" he asked instead.

"San Francisco, visiting her mother," Grissom answered. He knew that this was not exactly what Brass meant, but he wasn't willing to voluntarily give out private information regarding him and Sara.

"No, I mean—that's nice," started Brass, a hint of exasperation beginning to tint his voice. "No, but I meant where's she at emotionally? You know, with respect to the two of you."

There, Brass had gotten to the heart of the matter. Grissom almost smiled again. He was slightly touched by Brass's concern, but he also knew that he didn't want to have to explain this to every one of his coworkers. "I can't speak for her," he said instead, which was an honest answer.

"So speak for yourself," retorted Brass, his usual brash attitude returning, managing to overpower the comforting concern he had been trying to hard to display.

Inwardly, Grissom sighed. He didn't want to cause problems between him and his coworkers, but other than hanging a sign saying that he didn't want to be asked about Sara or his relationship with Sara, his only option was to brush off their concern. "I can't talk, I'm really busy," he said, quickening his pace to leave Brass behind.

To be completely honest, Grissom didn't know where Sara was, emotionally, in regards to him or in regards to anything else. He hadn't seen the signs pointing in the direction of her departure, and if that didn't clue him in to how oblivious he could be, nothing would. His conversation with Sara had been remarkably brief, entailing purely of her telling him three things: 1) She was ok. That had been a relief for Grissom, because in his mind, if she was willing to take as drastic measures as she did by leaving, she could easily take even more drastic measures. 2) She was in San Francisco. This did not come as a particular shock to Grissom. He figured it was the first place she would run to, especially since the "ghosts" that she claimed were haunting her all originated in the city she grew up in. And 3) She was not coming back. Again, Grissom had known this. Sara wasn't the kind of person who could go into something half-heartedly, with a clear exit route. No, she jumped in with all her heart and soul, and once her mind was made up, nothing and no one could convince her otherwise.

Grissom wished he could be so idealistic. But someone had to be the logical one, weighing all the opportunities and possible outcomes. And that had been him. That had always been him. Had this cautious attitude hurt him before? Yes, it had, but Sara herself had demonstrated that idealism hurt just as much as realism sometimes.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Grissom sat in his office, looking over his files. It had been a fairly quiet day in the lab, which he almost regretted. It would have been easier to dodge questions and concerns had there been a big case to work on. At the same time, that would mean that another person was dead, and everyone could be thankful that crime had taken the night off.

He was just about to start doing the paperwork for another case when Nick walked in There was something in Nick's walk, a certain hesitance to his steps, that instantly put Grissom on the alert. All Nick said at first was, "All right, Grissom. That's it for me. I'm out of here."

It had been said casually enough, but Grissom wasn't fooled. Still, he answered in a carefree attitude as well, hoping that it would be enough to fool Nick. "Have a nice day."

If it fooled Nick, he gave no indication of it. Instead, he lingered in the doorway, obviously making his mind up over whether or not he wanted to say something. Grissom was just about to tell him to spit it out when Nick said, slightly rushed, "Yeah, I'm going over to Frank's to grab something to eat. I'll probably be there for at least an hour if you want to…" This was the first place that Nick hesitated, but he added quickly, "If you want to join me."

Grissom was taken aback. This was not what he had expected, to be honest. He had expected some kind of heartfelt lamentation at the collapse of Grissom and Sara's relationship, perhaps a plea for Grissom to go after her, to step into the shoes of the country music hero who goes after his girl with his pick-up truck and trusty hound. Instead, Nick was offering something simpler and much harder for Grissom to say no to: friendship.

When Grissom didn't answer right away, Nick nodded and headed towards the door. He paused just before leaving and turned around to face Grissom. "You know, we don't have to talk about anything in particular. Just two guys having breakfast. I just don't think it's good for people to be alone too much." He started backing out of Grissom's office. "If you want to, cool. If not, cool. Whatever."

As Grissom watched him leave, he wanted to call after him, "I don't think it's good for people to be alone too much, either! But I didn't make the choice to be alone. I don't want to be alone. I don't know what I want."

Because that was the truth of the matter. Grissom didn't know what he wanted. The way he had pictured it, in ten years, he would be living in Vegas with Sara. They would be married. He doubted if they would have any children, because they would both be working at the crime lab still.

That dream had been shattered the moment Sara walked out the door. But it was what Grissom still wanted. He couldn't picture himself leaving the crime lab, not now and not anytime in the near future. And if Sara wasn't coming back to Vegas, then maybe she didn't fit into his dream anymore. Which was a shame, really, because it was Sara who had really taught him how to dream again.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Grissom stood outside the break room door, looking inside. He couldn't decide if he wanted to go inside, ignoring the lab techs that were currently in there, or spend the rest of his double shift without coffee. However, the idea of a Hodges-free shift won out in his mind over the thought of caffeine, and he turned to head back to his office.

Of course, nothing in life could be that simple, as it was Catherine's turn to pounce on him. "Oh, hey," she said, in the way that she had of projecting calm that barely hid the fact that she had been looking for him all shift in order to grill him about Sara and her whereabouts. "How are you?"

Though he knew the answer, Grissom asked, "Why?"

It came off more cutting and accusation-like than he had meant it, and Catherine clearly took offense. Or, at the very least, she took careful note of his reaction, filing it in her brain to use as evidence fir motive behind his actions, whatever they may be. "I can't ask how you're doing?" she asked, innocently enough.

Grissom sighed. While he was stressed and didn't necessarily want to deal with all of this, he also didn't want to completely alienate his friends. "I'm sorry," he said honestly. "I've just had a lot of…" He almost said "things on my mind," but then realized how that would sound, and quickly edited it. "Uh…I've been busy."

"Oh." Catherine's tone implied that she clearly thought he would be more forth coming with his information. "Well, maybe you should take a few days off, for once in your career. I mean, you've got enough stored up." This seemed like a friendly-enough suggestion, with no implication towards Sara, but then Catherine ruined it. "Go after her," she urged, a smile on her face.

He simply looked at her. Women could read anything in a look, and he hoped that she would be able to interpret the look that he was currently giving her correctly. "It's not what she wants," he said calmly, coming to that very realization as he said it.

Catherine simply raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you want?"

He already knew the answer before he formed it into words. "I want her to be happy."

Then he walked away.

He knew that he was right in what he said. He wanted Sara to be happy, and it was clear that she could not be happy here in Vegas, fitting in to Grissom's dream. So maybe he was right to let her go. She didn't want him chasing after her unless he was in the chase with his heart and soul. And that was something he never could be.

Sara had always been the one to chase. She had chased him from San Francisco to Vegas, at his request, yes, but also of her own volition. Grissom was not the type to chase. Did that make him a bad person? Possibly. But sometimes, nature had a way of working itself out, and Grissom had a sneaking suspicion that this was one of those times.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:**__ Here is chapter numero dos, in less time that I myself anticipated. This chapter is the beginning of Greggo-angst, and focuses on his thoughts during "You Kill Me." Here also begins the anti-Grissom animosity, which is in no way a reflection of my own feelings (strictly Greg here, folks). Usual disclaimer applies: I don't own and never will. Please read and review, and enjoy the show!_

Chapter 2

"_What I've become  
What I have done  
I never asked to be the one"_

Greg had just had one of the worst days of his life. To start with, there were no new cases to work on. And, of course, he couldn't go home early, even though he had finished all his paperwork. Instead, he had to suffer through his full shift with nothing to do, and, even worse, no one to do it with.

It was his first shift as a CSI without Sara there by his side. Sure, there had been days when she had the night off, or was working on a different case, or even after she had switched over to Swing, but she had been there in Vegas, or even there in the same building. Now, she was miles away, and wouldn't even answer his phone calls.

He knew that she was in San Francisco; it had been his first hunch, and then he had overheard Grissom and Brass talking, which had confirmed it. She was in San Francisco, but she may as well have been in China. And, in Greg's not-so-professional opinion, it simply wasn't fair. It wasn't fair to the team, which had dwindled down to only four CSIs under Grissom's command. More importantly, though, it wasn't fair to him. He didn't really know what to do without her there for him, there for him to joke with, or to laugh with, or even to ask for advice about anything from processing evidence to dealing with guilt surrounding Demetrius James's death. She had been the one constant in his life for eight years now, and it was not fair for him to have no choice, no say in giving that up.

Really, he understood why she had to leave. The pressure had been mounting for Sara ever since her kidnapping, and Greg had watched her slip downhill, watched her life crumbling, even as things were falling into place for her. And Greg had been helpless, unable to stop her fall. And he would've given anything, anything in order to help her. But he hadn't been able to. He could no more have stopped her downfall than he could've stopped a natural disaster.

But he wished with all his heart that he had been able to.

He missed her. He needed her here with him. He was like the moon; the only light he gave off was the light that he reflected from her.

Greg groaned aloud, sinking his head into his hands as he sat by himself in the lab. He officially hated that metaphor. It was possibly one of the stupidest thins that he had ever though of, and he had thought many stupid things in the past.

He just wanted Sara to be here. What he really wanted, he guessed, was for him to mean enough to her to keep her here. And he didn't mean enough to her. He definitely didn't mean as much to her as she did to him, and it was that which hurt him most of all.

A knock on the door brought Greg out of his thoughts, and he jolted upright. "I'm working, I promise," he said quickly, hoping and praying that it wasn't Grissom. He wasn't sure if he could face Grissom.

"Really? Cuz it looks like you were just sitting there, alone with your thoughts." It was not Grissom; it was Warrick.

Greg swiveled around in his chair, raising his eyebrows at Warrick. "Alone with my thoughts?" he asked lightly, clearing trying to joke it off. "Who knew that you were such a poet. It's a shame; you have a real flair for the cliché."

It was Warrick's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Haha, you're a real laugh, Sanders," he said dryly. "But I didn't come in here to be made fun of. I wanted to let you know that I was heading out, and I was thinking about heading to the Strip."

"Awesome," said Greg, his tone easily reflecting Warrick's sarcasm. "I appreciate you taking your time and effort to come all the way down here to let me know where you plan on going this evening."

Warrick sighed, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Sanders. That's not what I came here for. I'm heading to the Strip, and I wanted to know if you wanted to join me. Nick already said no; he's wiped. But I just had an energy drink, and I'm feeling pretty wired right now, and I know you have enough energy for three people, so I figured we could hit the Strip together." He paused, then added in quieter tones, "Besides, I thought you might want to get your mind off things for awhile."

Greg almost went for the sarcastic question he could easily have thrown in there, but he knew that Warrick was letting his defenses down and showing his sensitive side for once, and Greg figured that it wouldn't hurt to do the same. "Thanks, man, really, but I think it's a better idea for me to just head home. I might get myself into trouble if I go out tonight."

Smiling in understanding, Warrick clapped Greg on the shoulder before turning to leave. "Alright man, but take care. We're always here if you need to talk." Pausing before exiting, Warrick said, "Oh, and Greg? Nick and I are headed out now, and since you obviously weren't working on anything important, I figure you can head out too."

"Thanks!" called Greg after Warrick as he left. With a sigh, he rubbed his forehead in irritation. He didn't understand why this was so hard for him. Why wasn't it this hard for Grissom? Didn't that man care at all?

If Grissom was feeling the pain of the situation as much as Greg, he certainly hid it well. When Greg had seen Grissom earlier in the night talking to Brass, he hadn't looked any different or like losing Sara had meant anything to him. Granted, Grissom had about 20 years more experience hiding his emotions than Greg did, but still, Greg thought that the man might cave and show emotion in this situation, that he might show how much he missed Sara.

Greg knew that if it were up to him, things would be different.

Because if it were up to Greg, he'd show Sara how much he missed her.

Because if it were up to Greg, he'd go and find her tonight and bring her back here and make her see that she couldn't just leave.

Because he would have run away with her if she had given him the chance.

But the truth was, none of these things matter, no matter how much he wanted them to.

Because the truth was, he had never had her in the first place.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

It didn't take long for Greg to get ready to head out. The worst part for him was trying to decide if he should even bother going home. It would be no better for him there than it was here at work. There again, he reasoned, if he buried himself in work, he would be turning into Grissom, and that certainly hadn't convinced Sara to stick around.

So, after packing up his stuff and heading to the locker room to grab his coat, he went to leave. He had just been mentally congratulating himself on successfully avoiding seeing Grissom, when there he was, walking down the hallway towards him. Inwardly, Greg's gut reaction was to turn and walk the other way. He had no desire to talk to Grissom. He had nothing to say to the man. It wasn't because he blamed him for Sara's departure, it was just that he felt he had nothing to say in this situation.

His mind scrambled for words that could form into cohesive sentences that would not betray his hidden animosity towards Grissom, but none would come, and it was too late, anyway. Grissom acknowledged him, saying, "Night, Greg."

Before he could stop it, before his could force something more pleasant out, he heard himself grunting, "Yeah, whatever."

Nice one, Sanders. If Grissom didn't suspect any hostility before, he sure as hell did now. Way to go. Chalk one up for team Greggo.

If Greg had looked to see Grissom's reaction, he would have noticed that Grissom seemed taken aback by the younger man's antipathy, but Greg himself was taken aback by this sudden burst of animosity, and therefore had no time to dissect other people's emotional reactions.

Instead, he bolted for the bathroom, where he could hopefully be safe and alone for a few minutes while he got his head back together. He just didn't know why he had reacted that way, why he seemed to be harboring anger towards Grissom.

He went into the bathroom, thankful that it was empty, and turned the water on, gripping the sides of the sink so hard that his knuckles turned white. He did not understand himself, and almost felt like he should go apologize to Grissom. Because he really didn't blame Grissom. It's not like Grissom could have stopped Sara from leaving anymore than Greg himself could've stopped her.

Cupping his hands under the cold water, he bent to splash it on his face. As he straightened, he had a sudden revelation. He understood why he was made at Grissom. It wasn't that Grissom could've stopped Sara; it was that he should've. Whether or not Grissom would've made any headway in keeping Sara in Las Vegas, he still should've tried. And to Greg, Grissom just hadn't tried hard enough.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

_**A/N (Part 2):**__ Ah, poor Greggo. So young to be in so much pain. Too bad he's just too fun to torture. Next chapter will be the last one to feature any plot/dialogue from "You Kill Me," so after that, it will really move into unfamiliar (though maybe not-so unexpected) territory. _

_Please review!!_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:**__ Chapter three, ready to go. This is the last chapter containing any footage (other than possible flashbacks) from the show itself. I should have pointed out awhile ago, though I;ll say it now, this is un-beta'd, so any and all mistakes are mine. Usual disclaimer applies. Please read and review!_

Chapter 3

"_I'm riding it out  
The storm that you brought in  
Bringing it down, only around  
For you I'd go again"_

Greg didn't know how long he stood in the bathroom, water dripping from his face, lost in his thoughts. The revelation that he had had, the realization that in his heart, he did blame Grissom, was enough to stop him in his tracks and make him look at everything in his life. He needed out, he needed to get out of Las Vegas before his head exploded, or worse, he said something to Grissom that would get him fired for sure.

No, what he needed was, for lack of a better term, a time out, time away from the lab (and away for Grissom) to figure things out in his life. He had enough vacation time stored up that he could probably take two or three weeks off, but he didn't need that much time. A few days, perhaps. He could stay at home, catch up on all the shows he had Tivo-ed for the past several months, and, in essence, relax his troubles away.

Or, better yet, he could do what he had planned on doing since the idea of time off had entered his mind—he could go to San Francisco, find Sara, and beg her to return.

Greg's mind was made up. He would go to Grissom, ask for a few days off, and then he would head to California in pursuit of Sara. Whether or not he would find her, whether or not he would be able to convince her, all of these thoughts were inconsequential in his mind. All he knew is that he would be doing something, and that was more than what he was doing now.

He left the bathroom, heading straight for Grissom's office. There was a purpose to his steps now that had been lacking earlier in the evening, and there was even a lightness in his walk that told of an unseen weight being lifted from his shoulders. He had just reached the break room and was about to walk past when he heard voices coming from within the break room, and he paused, eavesdropping on the conversation without even meaning to.

It was Hodges who was talking, though who he was talking to, Greg didn't know. "You weren't ready—to leave—this: the challenges, the puzzles the job." There was a hint of a question in his tone, coupled with slight satisfaction.

"No," answered the other person in the room, and a chill ran down Greg's spine as he recognized Grissom's voice.

The satisfaction was gone from Hodge's voice, but the questioning tone still remained. "But Sara was."

There was a pause, and Greg felt his heart stop. "Yeah, she was," answered Grissom. Greg clenched his teeth, anger rising in his throat. How dare Grissom stand there and pretend that he knew what had been going through Sara's mind? How dare he pretend that he knew that Sara had been ready to leave the job, when this job had been Sara's life?

But Hodges was talking again, and Greg calmed his thoughts to listen to what the over-cocky lab tech was saying. "You can't stand in the way of that. When it's time for someone to move on, you just gotta let them go."

Again, a pause, and Greg used this pause to try and control his emotions. You never just had to let someone go. There was always a choice. Always a choice. Grissom ended the silence by saying, his voice strained, yet calm, "Let's play the game, shall we?"

Greg turned away from the break room, his own heart breaking. So it was true. Greg had just assumed that Grissom wasn't going after Sara because he wanted to let her go, but this proved it. Grissom was going to let Sara leave, let her get away, simply because he thought that it was the right thing to do, or that it was what Sara wanted.

But if that was what Grissom truly thought, than he had obviously not known Sara at all. Sara, who had spent her whole life running from her past, needed and wanted someone who would not let her run away. And Grissom was obviously not that man.

And that was the worst part of it. Because even though Grissom was not the man that would stop Sara from running, he was still the man that Sara loved. And if Grissom would just swallow his pride and go after her, if he would just follow her and tell her that he loved her and needed her to stay, then she would come back. Greg knew that she would, if it were Grissom to go after her. But if Greg went after her, even as he intended to do, she would not come back, and he knew that, even as his heart hoped beyond all odds.

Still, he was going to go, and if his mind wasn't made up before, it was now. He turned away from the break room, not waiting to hear more from Grissom, not wanting to have to think about Grissom anymore. He headed as if to leave, his mind numb. He would just call the lab later, and ask for time off. It was as good a method as any, and he would rather talk to Judy than to Grissom.

He had just started walking to the door when Catherine stepped in front of him, a look of concern on her fast. "Greg?" she asked gently.

Shaking his head once to clear it, he forced a smile onto his face, hoping it would be enough to fool her. ""Hey, Cath," he said, trying to keep his voice light and cheerful. "I didn't see you there."

She frowned, hands on her hips. "I've been calling your name from all the way down the hall."

So much for fooling her. Greg's smile slid off his face, and he looked down at his feet, avoiding her gaze. "Yeah, well, I've had a lot of things on my mind."

Catherine's gaze was too sympathetic, the hand she laid on his shoulder too gentle, and Greg only wished that she would leave him alone and not push it any further, even though he knew she would. "We've all had a lot on our minds since Sara left. All of us miss her, Greg. She was a good CSI and a better friend."

The words, coming from Catherine, who had all too often been at odds with Sara, seemed a little false, but Greg appreciated their sentiments nonetheless. "I know," he said softly, still avoiding her gaze. "I know that everyone misses Sara as well. I just wish she would've given us all time to say good-bye."

A small smile crept onto Catherine's face, and she remarked dryly, "I'm sure she didn't want to say good-bye because she knew that if she did, she never would've been able to leave. Especially if she had had to say good-bye to you."

"To me?" questioned Greg, raising an eyebrow. "How could I have been able to talk her out of leaving?"

Catherine just grinned. "Well, you know Greg, you can be rather persuasive when you want to be. Especially when, you know, you give those big, dark, puppy-dog eyes…"

Even Greg had to crack a grin, however short it was. "Somehow, I doubt even my best puppy-dog eyes could've stopped Sara."

"Maybe not your puppy-dog eyes," she conceded, still smiling. Then she sobered slightly. "But still, you're her best friend, and I bet you anything that if she had said good-bye to you, you would've been able to talk her out of leaving."

"Which is exactly why she didn't say good-bye to me," said Greg grimly. He fell silent, lost in thoughts.

Catherine let him think for a moment before she asked softly," I saw you heading to Grissom's office—did you need to tell him something?"

Again, there was an understanding look in her eyes, and Greg knew that she knew what he was thinking. "Actually, yeah," he said, hiding a smile. "Tell him that I'm taking a few days off."

Though she didn't seem particularly surprised, Catherine still raised an eyebrow at him. "Should I give him any particular reason, or should I let him work it out for himself?"

Greg just shrugged, clearly unconcerned. "I don't particularly care what you tell him. If it were up to me, I wouldn't give him any reason." Catherine nodded in understanding and turned to leave. Greg stopped her, a glint in his eye and a kind of savage smile on his face. "Oh, but Catherine, if he does ask for a reason, tell him I went to do what he should've done in the first place."

xXxXxXxXxXxXxX

_**A/N:**__ And so Greg is out of the lab and into the fire...heading towards San Francisco to find Sara. Next couple of chapters will feature his drive to California--since it is a fairly lengthy drive from Las Vegas to San Francisco--but after that, I think Sara might actually show up in her own story. _

_Please review!_


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:**__ New chapter! Finally breaking from the mold of "You Kill Me," but now this chapter quotes from "Fannysmackin'" I would like to preface this chapter with a quote from from the CSI Magazine, from Jorja Fox (Sara): "Many, many moons later, if things really fell apart between Grissom and Sara, I do wonder if there would be a time for Greg and Sara. I think...she still holds a certain torch for him."_

_So there's still hope for Sandle, so we shouldn't be too hard on Greggo for still having a thing for Sara. Anyway, usual disclaimer applies. Please read and review!_

Chapter 4

"_It's got to be, easy to see  
What everyone takes out of me  
Knocking me down, dragging me out  
How did you end up in that crowd?"_

Greg spent his drive back to his apartment in silence. It was unusual for him to be so quiet; normally, he would be blasting music, singing along and playing the drums on his steering wheel. Tonight, however, he needed the quiet. He needed to be able to think.

After all, he had planning to do. As romantic as it might seem in his head to have him rush off to San Francisco and sweep Sara off her feet and make her come back to Vegas with him for their happily ever after, reality never seemed to happen that way. Therefore, he had to come up with a plan of attack.

To start with, he had to track Sara down. This would actually be easier than the other part. He had several contacts in the San Francisco PD, so it shouldn't be too hard to figure out where Sara was staying. As to what he would say when he finally caught up with her, well, that needed to be planned out as well. More than anything, Greg did not want to mess this up, not when he only had one chance and one shot to get Sara to come home.

This was the thought that occupied his mind as he drove through Las Vegas to his apartment. It was this thought that dominated his brain as he packed a few changes of clothes and readied himself to leave.

The thing was, he didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to casually broach, "I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you," in a conversation. Truthfully, there wasn't a good way to do it, but since he didn't have much choice, he had to come up with a way to make it sound suave and sophisticated while still sincere and full of all the love that he felt for her.

And it was no small task to try to put that love into words. He didn't want to tell her that he fell in love with her the first time he ever met her, when he was doing DNA for the Holly Gribbs case. He didn't want to tell her that every time he saw her fail after going after Grissom that he had wanted to take her in his arms and tell her that Grissom didn't deserve her anyway. He didn't want to tell her that when he told her that a real man wouldn't mind the smell of death, he was referring to himself. He didn't want to tell her that over the course of their mentorship, he had fallen more and more in love with her everyday, even as he tried to distance himself.

He didn't want to tell her any of that, because that sounded so desperate. And playing the part of the unrequited, pining lover would only win him sympathy, not her love in return. No, he had to find a moment that they shared, something that the two of them alone had felt.

And then, as he stood in his bathroom, smoothing his hair over the small scar hidden by his hairline, he had it. There was a moment that they had shared, a moment that had given him hope against all hope, even when Grissom and Sara had said that they were dating. It was just after he had been attacked, and he remembered it like it was yesterday.

_Greg lay against the pavement, barely daring to breathe. It felt as if his entire body was just a mass of pain, and he somehow couldn't block it out. A sudden scent washed over him, one that he recognized from his dreams, and he felt a cool hand smoothing his hair. "Sara…" he whispered, barely able to get that simple name out without wincing._

"_I didn't think you could see me," replied Sara, a certain surprise in her voice, tinged heavily with sadness. Greg didn't want to know what he looked like to Sara. If he looked half as bad as he felt, he had to be a sight._

_He took a shuddering breath before managing, "I can't…but I know that Sidle scent." He hoped his humor wouldn't go unnoticed. He couldn't stand to hear the sadness and pain in her voice. She didn't say anything, but he could hear her breath catch as she sniffled softly, and that broke his heart even more. To think that he had made her cry…he quickly changed the subject. "I scratched one of them," he rasped._

_It was enough to distract Sara, and she took his hand in hers, taking care not to touch his fingernails so as to not contaminate the evidence. Even in this moment, in all the pain he was in, Greg couldn't help but marvel at the fact that she was holding his hand. "And you should check my vest," he continued, trying not to lose his composure as she held onto his hand. "I think the same guy s-spit on me."_

_He hadn't meant to stutter, and inwardly, he winced at how stupid he sounded. He sounded broken and weak, and he didn't want to sound either. He wanted to prove that he could be strong, that he could stand up to this pain. Bravely, he added, "And one of their card crashed into the Denali. I guarantee there's transfer on it."_

_Again, she said nothing, but Greg would give anything to stay in this moment forever as her hand stroked his hair. A part of him had wanted to just give up and die earlier, right after he had been attacked, but the fact that he got to feel Sara Sidle stroke his hair made all the pain and all the suffering more than worth it. Still, it was getting harder to stay alert and to talk, so he forced out, "You should process the scene now. Me later."_

"_I came here for you, Greg."_

In that simple moment, if Greg had ever convinced himself that he could one day get over Sara, he had just proven himself wrong. How could he ever get over her when she could say such things and make him believe in the possibility of them again? And it was so strange that he had let himself believe, and let himself hope, when the entire time, no matter what gentle words she said to him, she was still screwing the boss.

And to Greg, that had hurt worse than all the beatings he had taken that night. When it finally came out that Sara and Grissom were an item, Greg had been devastated. Hell, he still was. All that time, he had let himself believe that he and Sara really could be together at some point in time, but he had been proven drastically wrong. And worse, Sara hadn't told him.

She, who was supposed to be his best friend, couldn't find the time to tell him that she was sleeping with their boss. How did she think that felt to him, especially when she knew that he had feelings for her? It was as if she had switched roles, and instead of being the one comforting him after the attack, she was the one beating and kicking him. That was what it had felt like.

Yet still, no matter how betrayed he felt, or how much he wished he could finally give up on Sara, he couldn't. He put on a happy face for her and Grissom, even using his free time to help her on a case after she switched over to Swing shift. He had fulfilled the role of best friend to the best of his ability, never once letting on that he wished that she and he were the ones sharing an apartment with a dog named Bruno. It wasn't his place to impede upon her happiness.

But now that she was no longer happy, he was bound by no such rules. And he fully intended to make sure that she was as happy as she could be.

Greg took a deep breath before grabbing the duffel bag he had packed and heading out to his car. He should probably have gotten some sleep, but he had miles to go before he even got to California, and the thought of seeing Sara again would be enough to keep him driving for hours.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N:**__ Another day, another chapter. Not much to say about this one. The Seal Rock Inn is a real place, and I don't own it. Usual disclaimer applies--I own nothing, really. Please read and review!_

Chapter 5

"_Did you run away?  
Did you fall apart?  
Do you see yourself for what you are?  
Will you be looking for it anymore?  
When five becomes four"_

Greg had been driving for over an hour before he decided that it was now late enough in the morning to give his friend Matt at the SFPD a ring. He had gone to college with Matt, and they were good enough friends that Mat wouldn't mind bending the rules for Greg, just as Greg would bend the rules if Matt needed him to. Greg pulled out his cell phone and scrolled through his contacts until he found Matt's number.

A very groggy voice picked up on the other side. "Patterson."

"Wake up, Matty," said Greg in a singsong voice. He was amazed at how much lighter he felt just being on the road and knowing that he was on his way to do the best he could. "Come on, I know you have at least two cups on coffee in you, so you have no excuse."

"Sanders." Matt's voice was not overly amused. "Shouldn't you be mid-hibernation by this hour of the morning?"

Greg shrugged, even though he knew Matt couldn't see him. "I should be, yes, but I'm taking a few days off, and I figured I would drive up to San Francisco for that time. You know, see the sights, maybe run into a few old friends…"

Matt seemed instantly more awake. "Why do I get the feeling that I am not one of these old friends, and, somehow, this is going to involve me doing some private investigating to figure out where someone is?"

"Ah, Matty, you know me too well," Greg said, grinning. "I suppose the better question is, do you have enough free time to do this favor for me? Or should I call one of my other contacts at SFPD?"

There was a brief pause, but then Matt responded, mock-hurt, "Greg, you would honestly cheat on me with another person at SFPD?" He paused again. "You're in luck, Sanders. I just checked my calendar, and, provided I don't get a new case, I'm free all morning. Who do you want me to hunt down, and, more importantly, why?"

Greg ignored the second part of his question. "Her name is Sara Sidle. She'll probably be staying in a motel. I can give you her car make and model, and most of her license plate number." He rattled these things off the top of his head, not pausing to consider the fact that this would be considered fairly strange. "Do you think you can find her?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," said Matt casually. "However, whether or not I can find her does not mean that I will find her. Not without a very good reason as to why she should be found. For all I know, Sanders, she ran away from Vegas to get away from your ugly mug, and I'm not one to subject an innocent woman to that face of yours if she doesn't want to see it."

Greg frowned. "Hardy-har, Patterson, good to know that your humor hasn't improved since I last talked to you. If you must know, she's a former coworker of mine, and she left without saying good-bye, and therefore left some business between us opened and unfinished."

"And you want to finish that business," finished Matt, a note of relish in his voice. "You totally slept with her, didn't you? And that's why you want to find her again."

Snorting, Greg rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Patterson, did you ever mature past the age of eighteen? Because I swear…" He trailed off, his tone softening. "No, I didn't sleep with her. I may have wanted to, but I never got the opportunity."

There was a pause, then Matt said, equally quiet, "Oh." There was an awkward silence, then Matt said, "Well, if that's the case, Sanders, then I will slave away all morning until I find her for you."

Greg smiled. "Thanks, Matty. I appreciate it, seriously."

"Not a problem," said Matt, before adding gruffly, "Now get off my phone line and leave me alone so I can track her down for you."

"Bye, Matt," said Greg, rolling his eyes as he hung up. He couldn't help but smiling as he drummed against the steering wheel while humming to himself. He just had a good feeling about this.

A little over an hour later, Greg's phone rang, and he opened it without looking at the display. "Sanders."

"Who is a miracle worker?" asked Matt's voice, the smile unmistakable in his voice. "Seriously, who is the best detective you have ever met?"

Greg grinned as well. "You, hopefully," he said, scarcely daring to hope. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and hope that you found her. Am I right?"

After a moment, Matt said grudgingly, "Well, credit where credit's due, I suppose…I didn't actually find her. She is a hard woman to find, let me tell you. I bet she's even paying for her motel with cash. However, I did find someone who may be able to help you out. I have evidence from a reliable source that one Sara Sidle signed in two days ago as a visitor to the San Francisco coroner's office."

"That makes sense," Greg remarked. "She used to do a work-study at the coroner's office, so my guess is she was visiting an old friend or two."

"Yeah, my contact surmised the same thing," Matt confirmed. "However, as Sara undoubtedly learned when she went there two days ago, our most recent coroner, Jack Phillips, retired two years ago. Chances are, however, that Sara asked for his address and phone number, which I have for you, by the way. So, hopefully, this guy will know where Sara is staying, and thus, you will be able to track your love down once and for all and finish whatever business you have with her."

Greg closed his eyes, wishing that Matt had a more concrete lead. "Yeah, hopefully," he said dryly. "Thanks, Matt."

"No problem." Matt paused for a moment, then suggested tentatively, "Look, Greg, I know that you're driving all the way out here, but, you know, Sara obviously went through a lot of trouble to make sure she couldn't be found, and, you know, maybe you should leave well enough alone."

Greg was surprised by the sudden tears that sprung up in his eyes, and he cleared his throat before answering hoarsely, "Trust me, Matt, if I was doing this just for me, I probably wouldn't go through with this. But without Sara, the four of us left on Grissom's team seem so different, you know? And we all miss her, really. I just…I just think that I miss her more than everyone else."

There was silence on Matt's end, then he exhaled heavily. "Ok, well, I'm going to text you the phone number for the coroner. And Greg, I hope you find the answers that you're looking for."

Greg hung up without saying good-bye. He understood where Matt was coming from, really he did, but he also knew that he had things that he needed to say to Sara, and for once in his life, he was not going to let anyone stand in the way of that.

Instead, he punched the coroner's number into his phone, hoping that he was as genial as Doc Robbins. After two rings, a voice answered gruffly, "Hello?"

"Doctor Phillips?" asked Greg, hoping he didn't sound too eager.

"Yes?" answered the doctor, sounding slightly suspicious.

"I hope I'm not bothering you," said Greg, also hoping that he wouldn't start rambling. "My name is Greg Sanders, and I'm a CSI with the Las Vegas Police Department. I understand that a former coworker of mine, Sara Sidle, may have come to visit you, and I was hoping that you might know where she is staying."

There was a pause, then the doctor said slowly, "Yes, Sara did come to visit me. She said that she quit her job in Las Vegas."

"Yes sir, that's what I wanted to talk to her about," said Greg, biting his lip, hoping that this guy would be slightly understanding.

Again, there was a pause, and Dr. Phillips said, "Well, I'm not sure if she would want me to give out where she's staying."

"Please, sir," Greg said, not even bothering to hide the desperation in his voice. "She left without giving me an opportunity to say good-bye, and, well, she's my best friend, and there's so much that I still need to say to her."

"I understand," said Dr. Phillips gently. "And normally, I wouldn't do this just anyone. But when Sara talked about her job in Vegas, she mentioned you quite a bit, so I have no doubt that you two are, in fact, friends. She's staying at the Seal Rock Inn, 545 Point Lobos Avenue, room number 112."

Greg exhaled deeply, not even aware that he had been holding his breath. "Thank you, sir," he said honestly.

"You're welcome," responded the former coroner, a smile in his voice. "And Greg? Good luck."

Greg hung up, a grin spreading over his face. He knew where she was, and he felt better than he had in days. He ran a hand through his hair and reached for the radio, turning it on to a random station and just leaning back in his seat, ready to face the road ahead now that he knew his destination.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N:** __Another chapter! Woohoo! This one's a bit different. Most of it is a flashback (denoted by ITALICS). The song is "Always Be My Baby" by Mariah Carey. And in the next chapter, Greg finally makes it to San Francisco. Usual disclaimer applies. Please read and review!_

Chapter 6

"_When you're all alone with the melody  
Do you close your eyes and think of me?  
Will you still hear me singing anymore?  
When five becomes four"_

Greg drummed idly on the steering wheel as he sat in traffic on the interstate. There had been an accident, and traffic was backed up for miles. Greg was hot, cranky, and really just wanted to go to bed. Even the thought of seeing Sara again wasn't enough to stop his eyes from closing every three seconds as he almost fell asleep.

And the radio, despite its potential, wasn't helping the situation. Greg, in his hurry to pack and leave, had forgotten his number one most precious item: his iPod. Without it, he was subject to the whims of whatever radio station he could get. And at the moment, the only station he seemed able to get was some easy listening masquerading as a "mix" station crap that made the part of him that loved Black Flag and Marilyn Manson curl up and cry inside him.

Sighing deeply, Greg ran a hand through his hair in frustration. This was driving him crazy. Whatever terrible song he had just been listening to ended, and the radio announcer said cheerfully, "Alright, folks, we're gonna slow things down a little with this next song. I hope we have some Mariah fans out there! Here's Mariah Carey with 'Always Be My Baby.'"

Greg perked up. He wasn't a Mariah Carey fan by any means, but he knew this song. He had danced with Sara to this song at the LVPD Christmas Ball last year. It seemed like such a long time ago now, before he had known about her and Grissom, and just a few months after his accident. In fact, it had been at that very ball that Sara had told him about her relationship with Grissom.

_Greg sat alone at the table, nursing a glass of champagne as he watched people out dancing on the dance floor. He took a sip of his champagne and sighed deeply. It was almost too difficult for him to get into the holiday spirit this year. After all, he had precious little to be spirited and cheerful about. _

_His dark thoughts were broken as he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. Even though he hadn't meant to, even though he was trying to not be so skittish, he jumped a foot in the air the touch, whirling around to see Sara standing there, a look of concern on her face. "Greg?" she asked tentatively._

"_Sara." It came out as a sigh of relief. "Sorry—I still get a little freaked out when I don't hear someone coming up behind me."_

_She gave him a brief smile, but it didn't lessen the troubled look in her eyes. "It's ok, don't apologize. I think we all forget how short ago it was that…you know, it happened."_

_Greg shrugged. "It's not a big deal, honestly," he said, turning away from her. "Do you care to join me in sitting at this table in a non-holiday mood?"_

_Though she hesitated for a moment, she sat down next to him, smoothing the skirt of her dress with a subconscious grace. "I'll sit with you," she informed him, "but I'm not going to join you in your non-holiday mood. In fact, I want you to get out of your non-holiday mood and into the holiday spirit."_

_Sighing loudly and rolling his eyes, Greg gave her his best puppy-dog eyes. "Must I?" he asked plaintively. _

"_Yes, you must," said Sara, giving him a stern look. "Everyone misses Greg Sanders, Santa's little helper. After all, who else is going to put mistletoe up in the locker room and hang stockings in the break room?"_

_Even Greg had to crack a smile at that. "We could always make Hodges do it."_

_Sara wrinkled her nose. "True," she allowed, "but then all the wreaths would probably be dead from Hodges' poisonous touch."_

"_Valid statement," Greg grinned. "Still, it might be worth suggesting, if only just to see the look on his face." He paused for a moment, the glint in his eyes revealing that he was thinking for a minute about actually going through with it. Then his smile faltered slightly, and he gave Sara a strange look. "I do find it slightly odd, however, that Sara 'Bah-humbug' Sidle is lecturing me about holiday spirit. Just last year, you lectured me about wasting lab resources by hanging wreaths in the break room."_

_Raising her eyebrows, Sara said calmly, "Greg, it was in the middle of July."_

_Greg gave her a look. "Sara, haven't you ever heard of Christmas in July? Honestly." He shook his head, mock-disgusted, then looked at her closely. "But seriously, Sara, what makes this Christmas season so different?"_

_She looked away, purposely avoiding his gaze. "It's…it's nothing," she said softly. A new song came on, and she grabbed Greg's hand, pulling him out of his chair. "Come on," she said, eager to change the subject. "Come dance with me."_

"_You don't even like dancing!" protested Greg as he allowed himself to be led over to the dance floor. Sara turned to face him, still holding his hand in hers as she put her other one on his shoulder. Rolling his eyes, he placed his other hand on her lower back, pulling her close enough to him that they could still talk while dancing. "Don't think that you can fool me, Sidle. That was a purposeful change of subject, but I'm not gonna just let this go."_

"_We were as one, babe  
For a moment in time  
And it seemed everlasting  
That you would always be mine"_

_Sara didn't answer right away, swaying in time to the music. Finally, she leaned back, looking Greg in the eyes. "You're right," she admitted. "This Christmas season is different, and maybe it's part of why I'm not feeling my typical, Scrooge self."_

"_See, I told you so," said Greg, sticking out his tongue at her childishly as he twirled her. "Now tell me, what makes this Christmas season so different?"_

"_Now you want to be free  
So I'm letting you fly  
Cuz I know in my heart, babe  
Our love will never die, no!"_

_Again, Sara took her time in answering, and when she finally did, her voice was strangely downcast. "Well, I know this is probably not the time to be going through this with you, but I've found someone."_

_Greg felt his breath catch in his throat and his heart shudder to a stop. "You found someone?" he repeated calmly. "Like…like a boyfriend?" She nodded, avoiding his gaze. "Is it serious?"_

_She met his eyes. "I think so," she said casually, but there was so much hope contained in that simple statement that it broke Greg's heart._

"_You'll always be a part of me  
I'm a part of you indefinitely  
Don't you know you can't escape me  
Ooh darling cuz you'll always be my baby  
And we'll linger on  
Time can't erase a feeling this strong  
No way, you're never gonna shake me  
Ooh darling cuz you'll always be my baby"_

"_How serious is serious?" he asked, his voice still dangerously calm. In his heart and his mind, though, he was searching for some way to get out of this, some way to convince Sara that whomever she was with, it was a mistake, because she was meant to be his. "I mean, are you hearing wedding bells in the future, or what?"_

_She still looked up at him, then dropped her eyes to the floor, a blush rising in her cheeks. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "But a part of me hopes so."_

_Greg couldn't stop himself as he blurted out, "I hope not."_

_She looked up at him and he fell silent, looking away. They danced in silence for a few moments as Greg struggled to explain his outburst. "It's just…I mean, how well do you know this guy? Cuz, you know, he could be dangerous or whatever."_

"_I ain't gonna cry, no  
And I won't beg you to stay  
If you're determined to leave, babe  
I will not stand in your way  
But inevitable you'll be back again  
Cuz you know in your heart, babe  
Our love will never end, no"_

_A smile broke out on Sara's face. "Greg," she chided, "you sound like Nicky trying to be all macho and save me from the big, bad world. I'm a grown girl, Greggo, and I'm pretty sure that I have nothing to worry about. I've known this guy for years."_

_That hit Greg like a ton of bricks, because he knew instantly who she was talking about, and it broke his heart into a million tiny pieces. Because, really, it could have been anyone, but she had to choose _**him**_, and that just killed him. Still, he hoped against all odds and he asked softly, "So who is this mystery man, then?"_

_Sara just looked at him with those beautiful brown eyes and said quietly, "Grissom."_

"_You'll always be a part of me  
I'm a part of you indefinitely  
Don't you know you can't escape me  
Ooh darling cuz you'll always be my baby  
And we'll linger on  
Time can't erase a feeling this strong  
No way, you're never gonna shake me  
Ooh darling cuz you'll always be my baby"_

_Greg felt a lump rise in his throat and he looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn't start crying in the middle of the ball. "That's…nice," he said thickly. Taking a moment to collect himself, he looked up at the ceiling, the lights blurring from the tears in his eyes. Finally, he took a deep breath and asked, "How long?"_

_Sara knew what he was asking, and she took a deep breath of her own. "Since last May," she answered. "Since Brass got shot. It really shook Gil up, and I think it made him reconsider his own mortality. So ever since them."_

_Bile rose in Greg's throat when she called Grissom "Gil." He could've stood for anything but that. Hell, even Catherine, who had known Grissom forever, it seemed, called him Grissom for the most part. "That long, huh?" he asked, sounding more dejected than he had meant to._

_She squeezed his hand gently in her own. "Hey," she said, concern in her voice. "Are you ok with this?"_

"_I know that you'll be back, babe  
When your days and your nights get a little bit colder  
I know that you'll be right back, babe  
Ooh baby, believe me it's only a matter of time"_

_Greg wanted so much to say no, to say that he was not ok with this, that he never would be ok with this. He wanted to tell her how much it hurt him to know that she had picked Grissom over him, yet again. He wanted to tell her that he wished it was him, and that he didn't know if he could ever be friends with her again when he knew that she was dating Grissom, hell, that she was sleeping with Grissom. He wanted to tell her that he was dying inside because of this knowledge._

"_Greg?" she asked again, gently, pulling away slightly to search his eyes._

_He wanted to say all of those things, but instead, he set his mouth into a smile, the genuine kind, and he said, his heart breaking with every syllable, "Of course I'm ok with this. As long as you're happy, I'm happy."_

"_You'll always be a part of me  
I'm a part of you indefinitely  
Don't you know you can't escape me  
Ooh darling cuz you'll always be my baby  
And we'll linger on  
Time can't erase a feeling this strong  
No way, you're never gonna shake me  
Ooh darling cuz you'll always be my baby"_

_He didn't believe a word of what he said. But he was her best friend, the one role that Grissom could never take away from him. And as best friend, it was his job to say things like that and support her no matter what. She relaxed in his embrace, resting her head on his chest. "Good," she breathed, clearly relieved by his answer. "I was so afraid that you would be mad at me, and you're my best friend, and it would kill me to lose you over this."_

_Greg closed his eyes, resting his cheek on the top of her head. "No worries," he said lightly. "I'm not mad. There's nothing to be mad about."_

"_You'll always be a part of me  
I'm a part of you indefinitely  
Don't you know you can't escape me  
Ooh darling cuz you'll always be my baby  
And we'll linger on  
Time can't erase a feeling this strong  
No way, you're never gonna shake me  
Ooh darling cuz you'll always be my baby"_

_He pulled her closer to him, smelling her sweet, "Sidle" scent, and knowing that no matter what happened in the future, no matter what happened with her and Grissom, for just this one moment, she was there, wrapped in his arms, and, surprisingly, that was enough for him for that moment. "I could never be mad at you," he whispered, pulling her even closer so that they were more hugging than dancing. "I love you, and I always will, no matter what."_

How true those words were. Greg had meant them when he said them, of course, but they had such a more poignant and fitting meaning now. He would always love her, and he knew that. And now, it was simply time to carry through with his love.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N:**__ And we FINALLY reach San Francisco. It's pretty exciting. Not much to say about this chapter. Usual disclaimer applies. Please read and review!_

Chapter 7

"_Try and put aside  
Your history and pride  
Maybe for one moment in time  
We'll all be on your side"_

By the time Greg finally got to San Francisco a full ten hours after leaving Vegas (the trip would normally have only taken nine hours, but thanks to traffic, it had taken him an hour loner), all Greg wanted to do was curl up on a bed and go to sleep. Or possibly shower. Ten hours in a car had not made him smell particularly appealing, and he did not want to deter Sara from returning with him simply based on his stench.

Still, he had made it this far, and he also didn't want to be sidetracked from his mission. He wanted to see Sara as soon as possible, and therefore drove straight through San Francisco until he reached the Seal Rock Inn. He parked inconspicuously between two cars and took his time surveying the parking lot.

There was no sign of Sara's car, but that didn't mean much. After all, Matt had said that he hadn't been able to track her car, so she very easily could've ditched it somewhere so that she couldn't be followed. Greg almost smiled as he realized how much it sounded like he was thinking of Sara as a suspect in a crime. Sara would be proud that he remembered all of his training.

Leaning back in his seat, Greg ran a hand through his hair, thinking. Sara could've ditched her car, it was true, and he wouldn't put it past her; the CSIs joked that they could hide a body without it being found, but Greg didn't doubt it. Still, just because Matt couldn't find the car didn't mean anything. It's not like he ordered an official BOLO or anything like that. At least, Greg didn't think he had.

Greg sighed and rested his forehead against the steering wheel. He was not thinking clearly, and, worse, his butt had fallen asleep. He could sit in here and debate with himself for hours over whether or not Sara had ditched her car somewhere, or he could do a bit more active investigating.

His stiff legs and numb rear pleaded for the latter, so he got out of his car, slipping his aviator sunglasses on and hoping he didn't stand out too much. As he walked over to the lobby of the motel, he couldn't help thinking that if his mission wasn't so important, this might actually be fun. The eternal child in him reveled in the idea of being a secret agent, which is what he felt like, having tracked Sara across state lines and now coming to her motel.

Luckily, once Greg got into the lobby, the euphoria of pretense wore off, and Greg's senses seemed heightened as he gazed around. There was an older gentleman sitting in a chair reading the newspaper, and then the only other person in the room was the bored-looking receptionist behind the front desk. Greg sidled over to the desk, trying to look casual. "Good afternoon, ma'am," he said, in his best Nick-Stokes-Gentleman impression. He even flashed her a megawatt smile. "My name is Greg Sanders, and I'm looking for someone. I was hoping you could help me."

The receptionist just looked up at him, her expression unchanged. "Mr. Sanders, our customers' privacy is most important to our establishment, and I'm afraid I can't reveal anyone's occupancy without express permission from said occupant."

The woman rattled this off like she had memorized it word-for-word from the employee handbook, which, come to think about it, she probably had. Greg's smile didn't falter, though his eyes became a bit harder. "Yes, ma'am, I understand that. But, see, I already know someone is staying here, I just need to confirm the room number."

Rolling her eyes, the receptionist responded in a monotone voice, "I'm sorry, sir, but I am not allowed to give this information out."

Greg seethed silently to himself, at a dead end. Nick's infallible charm had, somehow, failed, and he was drawing a blank. _Think_, he commanded himself. _What would a secret agent do?_

Then it hit him, and he had to hide a smile as he reached into his back pocket. "Alright, ma'am, I thank you for doing your job, but now I have to ask you to let me do mine." He held his crime lab I.D. up for her to see, making sure that she saw the LVPD seal printed on it.

Though this didn't quite shock her out of her stupor, she lost the monotone edge to her voice. "I'm really not supposed to," she said in a hushed voice, "not without a warrant, anyway." Pausing, she looked up at him. "But I suppose I could make an exception, just this once. What room where you checking on?"

"112," he answered immediately, feeling completely relieved as he tucked his I.D. back into his pocket.

She typed quickly into the computer, then nodded. "Ah, yes. Room 112. Rented to party name of Sidle. One guest, one bed." Pausing, she looked up at Greg again. "Now, I really shouldn't be saying this," she said, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper again, "but there was something strange about her. I was working when she came in and got a room."

"Strange?" asked Greg quickly, his brow knitting in worry. "Strange how?"

"Well, she paid in cash, for one thing. Four nights up front, all in cash. Very odd. Our rooms aren't cheap, you know," she told him. "And then there was something about her manner. She was…calm, I guess would be the best way to describe it. But, too calm, you know? And she had tearstains down her face, where her mascara had run." The lady shook her head. "Just something about it made me suspicious. I don't know…I mean, we get our fair share of suicides here—not a whole lot, not like other parts of town—and something in her seemed to remind me of that, like she wasn't even living."

Greg's eyebrows were drawn close over his eyes, and for a moment, he looked furious. He felt furious. Grissom had done this to Sara, there was no doubt about it. And Greg was outraged that Grissom would do that to her. Then his brow smoothed and with practiced effort, he forced his face into a relaxed smile. "Thank you for all the information," he said graciously.

She smiled at him. "Not a problem." Then, after a pause, she bit her lip and leaned forward. "It's not my place to ask, of course, but I just want to know—is she a suspect in a murder investigation?"

Greg almost laughed. "No, ma'am, nothing like that," he assured her. "If this were a murder investigation, there'd be a lot more officers with me."

With that said, he turned and left, heading straight to Sara's room. He quickened his pace, almost jogging past the doors. 100…101…102…109…110…111…and there it was, waiting, so unremarkable. Greg felt his heart pounding in his chest, and with a trembling hand, he reached out and knocked on the door.

There was no answer.

Greg didn't know if he felt saddened or relieved. All he knew is that it looked like he was going to be waiting a little longer to see Sara. He didn't know if his heart could take it. He felt like he had just had a heart attack, and he was pretty positive that if he kept this up, he probably would.

He trudged back to his car, figuring it was as good a place as any to wait for Sara's return. It's not like he had anyplace better to be. He settled into the front seat, leaning it back so that he was practically lying down. With his sunglasses still on, he closed his eyes, figuring he would take a nap for an hour or two.

Those hopes were dashed when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the display. It was Nick. Surprised, Greg flipped his phone open. "Sanders," he said, business-like.

"Hey, Greggo, it's me." Nick's voice was falsely cheerful; Greg could tell that even a state away. "What's up, man?"

Greg raised an eyebrow. "Not much," he said calmly. "I'm taking a few days off, you know, to recuperate and what have you. What about you?"

"Oh not much," echoed Nick, nonchalantly. "You know, it's my night off, too, and I was thinking maybe we could hang out."

Ah, there it was. Greg closed his eyes, sighing out loud. "Well, then I'm sure you're well aware that I'm not at my place right now," he said, still calm. "And I should probably tell you that I won't be back tonight."

There was a pause, then Nick said quietly, "Yeah, I figured as much." He paused again, then asked, his tone soft, "When do you think you'll be back?"

"I don't know," answered Greg, his voice equally soft. "I'm going to be gone as long as it takes."

Nick didn't ask what the "it" was that Greg referred to; when Greg thought about it, he realized that it was probably because Nick already knew. They all knew that Greg was still pining for Sara, and chances were that all had suspected that he would do something like that. Still, Nick said none of this, only saying casually, "Alright, well, I'll see you when you get back, then. Take care of yourself."

"Bye, Nicky," said Greg, hanging up and leaning back in his seat. So Nick had been worried about him. Well, there was nothing he could do about that here. Yawning widely, he shifted to make himself more comfortable, struggling to keep his eyes open. _Just an hour_, he promised himself, even as he drifted off. _Just…an…hour…_

A sharp rap on his car window jerked him out of sleep, and he sat bolt upright, his eyes wide and staring. There, at his car window, was Sara, and she looked furious.


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N:** __I'm trying to get all of the chapters up before I leave for Belgium, and I think I'll be good. Still, this is the fastest I think I've ever posted a story. Anyway, this chapter has a bit of foul language in it, though, really, it's nothing you haven't heard before. Usual disclaimer applies. Please read and review!_

Chapter 8

"_The story goes, nobody knows  
What it was like when you were through  
Someone who cared out in the air  
It went and crashed down anywhere"_

Sara was livid; Greg didn't think he'd ever seen her this angry. Her eyes were narrowed and they burned with intensity and fury. She gripped the front of his car, her knuckles white from the strain. Greg sat up slowly in his seat, trying to smile weakly. "Hey Sara," he said, wincing at how stupid he sounded.

"What the hell are you doing here, Greg?" hissed Sara, her eyes suspiciously bright. "Why are you in San Francisco, and, more importantly, why are you at my hotel, obviously waiting for me?'

Greg shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to maintain his disarming smile while inside, his stomach was doing somersaults. "Um, coincidence?" he suggesting, not sounding the least bit convincing, even to himself.

Sara's expression flickered slightly, and she whispered, "There's no such thing as a coincidence." She closed her eyes briefly, pain washing over her face as her words echoed the ones Grissom had repeated to each of them countless times.

Greg's own expression turned worried, and he started to open his door, clearly concerned. It was obvious that Sara did not want to be reminded of Grissom. "Sara?" he asked softly, his voice full of the worry that he felt.

She looked over at him, her expression changing the instant she saw him start to get out of the car. "Stop," she hissed, wrapping her arms around her torso, as if for support. "Stay in your car, Greg. Stay in your car, and get the hell out of here."

Eyes hardening, Greg instantly disobeyed, opening his car door all the way and stepping outside. "Don't think that I'm just going to obey you," he snapped. Her abrasive attitude was beginning to wear off on him, and it was souring his mood quickly. "I'm not longer your little field mouse bending to your every whim and wish."

"Obviously not," Sara retorted, her eyes dark. "Otherwise you wouldn't be here in the first place." Pausing, her mouth twisted sardonically. "Though, of course, you never could take a hint, could you?"

Greg's blood boiled at that, and his visibly bristled, the muscles in his arms and back tightening. "Don't say things like that," he said through clenched teeth, his eyes darkening in rage. "Not now, not just because you want to get rid of me. Don't say things that I know you don't mean."

"Don't I?" asked Sara airily, her smile victorious, knowing that she had hit a nerve.

Glaring at her, Greg took a few deep breaths, trying to get his anger in check. "No, you don't mean them," he said finally, his eyes cooling to their normal chocolate. "I know you don't mean them, no matter what you may say otherwise. If you had really meant them, you wouldn't be standing here right now; you would've already driven away."

Sara glared back at him, though a lot of the fight seemed to leave her. She slumped against his car, running a hand through her disheveled hair. "I still don't know how it's come to this," she muttered out loud. Then, after a deep breath, she turned to Greg, her features smoothing into an unconcerned look. "Why did you come here, Greg? What were you hoping to accomplish?"

"That's obvious," Greg said calmly, leaning against his car as well. "I came here for you." Though his words echoed the ones she said to him barely a year ago as he lay bleeding against the pavement, Sara made no sign that she recognized them. Sighing, Greg continued, "I came here for you, to convince you to come back to Vegas."

A myriad of emotions flashed across Sara's face, though she settled for a blank, emotionless look. "You're wasting your time, then," she said, her voice unnaturally untroubled. "I'm not coming back to Vegas, and there's nothing you can do to convince me otherwise."

Greg didn't even blink. "Well, I figured it couldn't hurt to try." He paused for a second, unsure if he should continue, then he added softly, "Besides, I didn't get to say good-bye."

She didn't look at him. "Yeah, sorry about that," she said indifferently. "I wanted to get out of there pretty quickly, so I didn't really have time for good-byes."

"Bullshit," breathed Greg, his brown eyes hardening. "You didn't want to say good-bye because you didn't want us to have the opportunity to convince you to stay. Because that's what would've happened, isn't it?" he pressed, leaning forward as he spoke. "If you would've come to say good-bye, we would've convinced you not to leave. So don't pretend that none of us merited a good-bye, because I know we did, and I know it's hurting you that you didn't get to say good-bye. You didn't say good-bye to me, to Warrick, to Nicky…"

"Stop it," she said suddenly, cutting him off as misery took over her features. "Stop it, Greg," she repeated, her voice breaking. "Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I made this choice lightly?"

Greg's eyes narrowed in anger. "Easy for you?" he repeated incredulously. "Easy for _you_? Do you think it's easy for me, for anyone back home? I'm not the one who abandoned everyone without warning."

Sara slapped him. The sound rang across the empty parking lot. "Fuck you," she said, her voice trembling and her eyes blazing with fury. "I didn't abandon anyone. I had to leave."

"But you could've said goodbye," said Greg, unfazed by the slap. He looked her deep in the eyes. "You still could've said good-bye."

She turned away, but not before Greg thought he saw her eyes fill with tears. "You shouldn't have come," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "I left, and I left all you behind for a reason. I can't have you around, Greg. In fact, I don't want you around. Why do you think I left?"

Greg's heart seemed to stop. "You don't want me around?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. "What do you mean by that?"

Sara's face reflected the pain she obviously felt, but her voice and her eyes hardened. "What do you think I mean by that? I don't want you here, Greg. Not anymore, not ever. You never should've come here."

Though his heart broke with her words, Greg drew himself up to his full height, towering over her. He took a moment to collect his thoughts. Finally, he looked Sara straight in the eyes and growled, "Well, that's just too fucking bad, Sara, because guess what? I'm your best friend, and this is what friends do. We hunt each other down when one is trying to run away from her life. And guess what else? I'm not going anywhere."

A muscle twitched in Sara's jaw and she pushed Greg away from her. "Fine," she snapped, her voice full of venom. "Stay in San Francisco as long as you want. Just stay the hell away from me."

She stalked away from him, clearly heading back to her car. "You can't just run away again," Greg called after her. "I'll just find you again, and you know I will. When you're ready to talk, I'll be here."

Though she ignored him, Greg knew that she had heard. She got in her car and drove away without looking back. Sighing deeply, Greg ran a hand through his hair, then winced as he felt how greasy it was. He still needed a shower, and he still needed a good night's sleep. He sighed again, then turned and headed back to the front desk. Sara was going to have to come back again sometime, even if just to get her stuff, and when she came back, Greg would be waiting.


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N:**__ And yet again, another new chapter. This one had a much gentler tone than the previous one, which is good, because there was A LOT of angst in that one. This has less angst, but that doesn't mean by any means that it's the end of angst for this story. Anyway, usual disclaimer applies. Please read and review! _

Chapter 9

"_Did you run away?  
Did you fall apart?  
Do you see yourself for what you are?  
Will you be looking for it anymore?  
When five becomes four"_

Greg woke far too early the next morning. The sun had barely breached the horizon, and the clock on the bedside table proclaimed the time to be just after five. With a sigh, Greg sat up and swung his legs over to the side of the bed, where he sat for a few moments, gathering his thoughts.

He had dreamed of Sara.

It hadn't been a good dream, and yet, oddly enough, hadn't been a bad dream either. He had been chasing Sara through darkness, and no matter how hard he ran or how close he got to her, she always evaded him.

Shaking his head, he ran a hand over his face and took a few deep breaths. It had just been a dream. Nothing more, nothing less. It certainly didn't have any bearing on his plans for the day. Or, at least, it wouldn't have any bearing on his plans for the day, if he had made any plans for the day. He hadn't however, since his impromptu meeting with Sara the night before had disrupted any plans he might've had in the first place.

Well, first things first. He stood up from the bed, stretching languidly before heading to the bathroom to shower. After a nice, long shower, he would go scrounge up some breakfast. And then, he would see where the morning took him.

A few hours later, Greg found himself seated at a small table in a café in downtown San Francisco, reading an old issue of _Journal of Forensic Sciences_ that he had found in his duffel bag and sipping on a cup of coffee that didn't even come close to matching his Blue Hawaiian for taste.

He had just finished re-reading a particularly enthralling article on mitochondrial DNA when his phone ran. Without thinking, he whipped it out and held it up to his ear, his gaze never leaving the magazine in front of him. "Sanders."

"Greg?"

His breath hitched in his throat as he recognized Sara's voice, but this was not Sara's voice as he recognized it. It was too soft, too gentle, and, if possible for the tenacious woman, more vulnerable than he had ever heard it in his life. His hand gripped his phone like a vice, and he asked softly, "Sara? Where are you? Are you ok?"

"I'm fine," she answered immediately, the kind of knee-jerk response that was typical of her. "And I'm at the hotel. In my room. I was…" She trailed off, uncertain if she should continue. "I was hoping that we could talk."

"Of course," Greg answered quickly, his voice sounding odd, even to him. He stared ahead, trying to remember how to breath as he formed what he wanted to say. "Talking is good. I'm glad you want to talk." Pausing, he took a deep breath before adding in a low voice, "I am kinda surprised, however, that you're still here."

Sara paused as well, and when she answered, there was a tinge of surprise in her voice as well. "I'm surprised too," she said softly. "I had it all planned. I was going to go and grab my stuff and get out of here. But something made me stay, and I think it was you."

Greg didn't know what to say to that, though it made his heart beat even faster than before. "Whatever the reason," he said, his voice suddenly husky, "I'm really glad that you stayed this time."

There was another long pause before Sara said, so quietly that Greg couldn't be sure if he had heard her right or if she had ever said it at all, "I'm really glad I stayed, too."

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX

When Sara answered the door of her hotel room, there had been no theatrics like the night before. In fact, there had been nothing out of the ordinary at all. She had let him in without a word, bustling to the kitchenette where a teapot was beginning to whistle. "I made tea," she said, rather unnecessarily. "I hope you don't mind. It calms me down and helps me think."

"I don't mind at all," Greg said, taking a seat on the hard, uncomfortable hotel-provided couch. "In fact, I'll take a mug, if you have enough to spare. It's still a little early for my mind to be functioning at full capacity." He broke off, looking closely at Sara, eyes half questioning and half accusing. "Though I supposed you'll be all adjusted by now, since you left. After all, you don't need to be nocturnal anymore."

Though her back was to him in the kitchen, Greg could see her muscles visibly tense at his words, and as she brought the tea mugs over, he noticed for the first time the deep circles under her eyes and the mask of exhaustion that clung to her features. She only shrugged, however, as she sat in the chair across from him, tucking one leg under her as she sat. "I sleep when I can," she said softly, avoiding his gaze. "I'm not quite on a schedule yet."

Greg was suddenly uncomfortable, and he took a careful sip of the tea, just to have something to do with his hands. After a moment of tense silence, he finally blurted, "Well, what did you want to talk about?"

If she was startled by his outburst, she didn't show it. Instead, she looked almost—embarrassed, a hint of pink flushing her cheeks. "I'm sorry," said Sara softly, tracing the rim of her tea mug with her finger and avoiding Greg's eyes. "I'm sorry about everything I said yesterday. I hope that you know that I didn't mean a word of it."

Greg leaned back in his seat, his eyes coolly appraising her. "I know that you didn't mean it, but I don't understand why you said it," he said calmly.

She looked up then, her eyes searching his. "Don't you understand?" she whispered. "Your very presence here makes me want to go back to Vegas. It makes me miss everything good about that place, and that's not something that I want to think about right now. I can't think about that right now because if I think about it, then I'll want to go back."

Now Greg leaned forward, taking Sara's hand in his. "Look, Sara, I wouldn't be here if I thought this was truly what you wanted," he said eagerly. "Really I wouldn't. In fact, if you look me in my eyes right now and tell me that you're happy, then I will leave, here and now." He paused for impact, then continued in a gentler tone. "But if you're not happy, which I don't think you are, then I'm not going anywhere until we sort this out."

"You're right," said Sara simply, looking down at their entwined hands. "I'm not happy here. But Greg, I'm not happy in Vegas anymore. And as much as Vegas had been my home for the past eight years, it doesn't feel like home anymore. And I don't know what to do about it."

Greg dropped her hand and sat back, his expression sour. "You could still try," he said, not meaning to sound snippy. "You could try to work things out there. You could try to suck it up and wait it out."

Sara's expression was pained, both at his words and the implications that came with them. "Greg, I've been trying and waiting it out and sucking it up for close to a year now," she said softly. "The job got to me. The job's been getting to me. I thought that maybe with Grissom…" She trailed off, even more pain on her face. "But that didn't work out," she finally allowed. "Even with Grissom's help, it was too much. In fact, if it weren't for Grissom—and for you—I would've left a long time ago."

Though Greg was touched by her inclusion of him, he could also sense that he was pushing it a bit too far, and Sara would clam up if he kept pushing. Instead, he changed the subject. "So what have you been doing here in San Francisco? I know you went to go see a coroner friend of yours, right?"

She seem puzzled for a second by the subject change, but her voice warmed as she spoke. "Yeah, Dr. Phillips was the coroner when I worked here. He's a great guy—real quirky, and you can totally tell that he lived through the 1960s, you know?"

She prattled on, her features lighter than Greg had seen in weeks, and so he just sat back and let her talk, reveling in the sound of her voice surrounding him.

They talked like that for hours, sharing stories and studiously avoiding the topic of Las Vegas. Sara had just finished sharing her first experience at a gay bar when Greg noticed the time. "Whoa!" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Is it that late already?"

Sara glanced at the time as well. "Oh, wow, we just chatted the day away."

Greg grinned and was about to point out that _she_ had chatted the day away (and his ear off) when suddenly his stomach did the talking for him, letting out a large, watery growl that made Greg grin and blush at the same time. "Looks like it's time to eat as well," said Greg, standing and offering a hand to Sara. "Why don't we go get some dinner, and then we can keep talking?"

Biting her lip, an inner battle clearly taking place inside her, Sara finally nodded, albeit reluctantly, and took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. "Dinner," she allowed, hands on hips. "But no funny business, ok?"

Though Greg looked mock-wounded at the suggestion that he would be the culprit behind any funny business, his eyes were serious as he responded lightly, "Now I can't make any promises like that, and you know it."

Sara just rolled her eyes. "Let's get out of here," she said, heading to the door. "Before I change my mind."


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N:** Another chapter for your viewing pleasure. I've noticed something about the next few chapters (this one included). There seems to be some kind of angst-fluff continuum, and when a chapter starts one way (fluffy, for example), it thus ends the other way (in this example, angsty). Anyway, usual disclaimer applies. We're entering the home stretch, here. Only 4 more chapters after this one. Please read and review!_

Chapter 10

"_When you're all alone with the melody  
Do you close your eyes and think of me?  
Will you still hear me singing anymore?  
When five becomes four"_

Greg left the choice of restaurant up to Sara; she had spent time in San Francisco more recently than he, so he figured she might know more about where they should eat. Besides, he was reveling in simply walking down the sidewalk with her. There was simply an energy that flowed from her that always caught him in its spell. From the way she tilted her head to catch the last rays of the sun in her hair to the way she turned to smile at him, he loved it all, and he was immensely grateful for this opportunity.

She had decided on a small café near the water that was only about a fifteen-minute walk from the hotel. Greg wouldn't have cared it they were eating in the nastiest dive in San Francisco—the chance to be with her was enough.

They arrived, sat down and ordered with no problem, and the food was out quickly. They ate in relative silence, but it was a comfortable silence, the kind that only two people who knew each other well could have. After he had finished his dinner, Greg leaned back in his chair, watching Sara eat. He loved her so much, and it was about time that they got into that conversation. She looked up at him as if she had heard his thoughts, then smiled gently, but with concern, reaching out to touch his arm. "What's wrong?" she asked. "You look like you have a burning question in your mind. Out with it, Sanders. What's bothering you?"

Taking her hand in his, he looked down at his plate, carefully formulating the words in his head so that they came out right. "When you left Vegas," he said slowly, "you didn't just leave all your friends behind. You left Grissom behind as well."

Sara sat very still, her demeanor shifting instantly, as if she knew what he was going to ask. "Yes, I did," she said quietly, but there was a hint of a question in her tone, as if she was wondering what he would say next.

Taking a deep breath, Greg continued gazing at his meal, half afraid to meet her eyes. "So, does that mean," he began, his voice so low that she could barely hear him, "does that mean that things with you and Grissom are officially over? Is there…is there a chance that another guy might…you know…"

"Greg," Sara said gently, her heart breaking with each word. "Greg, I—"

"Forget it," said Greg suddenly, though he didn't drop his hand. Instead, he stood, pulling her to her feet. "Come on," he said, pulling her closer to him. "Come dance with me."

She gave him a look that was more startled than anything. "Greg, what in the hell are you—?" she started to ask, but he cut her off.

"Listen," he breathed in her ear as he pulled her even closer. "It's our song. We danced to this song at the LVPD ball. When you told me…"

He didn't need to complete the rest of the sentence; she already knew. "When I told you about me and Grissom," she said, her voice suddenly dull. "This is our song? Since when? I don't recall getting a vote on that." She looked around, clearly embarrassed that other diners in the restaurant were staring at them.

Greg rolled his eyes. "It's been our song since that night," he informed her

Still confused, Sara asked, "Why this song, of all songs?"

"Because," Greg said softly in her ear, his hand resting firmly on the small of her back, "that song, that night, was the first time I ever got to dance with you. I haven't been able to get that song out of my head ever since that night. And I certainly haven't ever been able to get the idea of holding you in my arms as we danced out of my mind."

Sara just looked at him, an inexplicable pain in her eyes. "Greg—" she began again, and once again, he cut her off.

"Please, Sara," he whispered, stroking her cheek with the back of his knuckles. "Just dance with my. Just for this moment. Please."

How could she deny him that one request? She didn't even try, acquiescing to his plea. Greg closed his eyes and breathed in her sweet scent, immediately taken back to that night so long ago. Somehow, this felt so right, no matter how wrong it was. Holding her in his arms was enough to satisfy every longing that he had felt towards her.

Resting his cheek against hers as they danced, he sang softly into her ear along with the music.

"You'll always be a part of me  
I'm a part of you indefinitely  
Babe don't you know you can't escape me  
Ooh darling cuz you'll always be my baby  
And we'll linger on  
Time can't erase a feeling this strong  
No way, you're never gonna shake me  
Ooh darling cuz you'll always be my baby"

He pulled back enough to look at her properly, and he was surprised to see that her eyes were full of tears. "Sara, what—?" he started to ask, but this time, it was her turn to cut him off.

"I can't," she whispered, staring at him as if seeing him clearly for the first time. "I can't do this, Greg. I really can't." She turned and left the restaurant, only pausing to grab her purse from the back of her chair.

Greg stood still for a moment in shock. He had not been expecting that. Quickly, he whipped his wallet out and tossed a few bills on the table before hurrying after her. He had to jog to catch up to her, and when he did, he touched her gently on the arm. "Sara?" he asked quietly.

She turned to him. "My heart is torn in two, Greg," she said, tears streaming down her face. "You don't know how hard it is for me. Being here, being with you, it's ripping me apart. Part of me wants to be with you. Part of me still is in love with Grissom. And another part of me, perhaps the biggest part of all, just wants to leave and leave both of you behind."

Remaining silent, Greg just rubbed her back soothingly. The truth was that he didn't know what to say. He had never expected that Sara would be this upset with him being here. Guiltily, he remembered what Catherine had said about Sara being unable to tell him good-bye because he would've been able to make her stay. Greg sighed deeply, then withdrew his hand so that he was no longer touching Sara. Instead, he put his hands in his pockets and looked down at the ground. "Do you want to go back to the hotel?" he asked quietly, making sure to avoid her gaze.

Sara avoided looking at his face as well. She couldn't seem to bring herself to speak, only nodding in response, one arm wrapped around her stomach like she was literally holding herself together. They walked back in silence, the energy that had previously been between them replaced by tension that seemed to crackle in the air.

They finally got back to the hotel, still in silence. Greg looked over at Sara, who was looking down at the ground and biting her lip. He simply reached out and touched her shoulder wordlessly before heading over to his room.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, Sara called out to him. "Greg, wait." She ran to catch up. When she was level with him, she slowed, her brow wrinkled in concentration as she tried to form her thoughts into words. "Do you…do you want to come up to my room?" she asked, all in a rush.

Greg raised his eyebrows in pure shock. "Are you a masochist?" he joked, recalling their conversation only a few minutes earlier about how much he was hurting her, and his eyes were half serious with the question.

A small smile flickered reluctantly on Sara's face, but it quickly faded. "Who knows?" she whispered, her dark eyes seeming even darker. "I must be."

Greg's smile faded as well, and he shook his head. "You may be a masochist, but I'm no sadist, Sara. And I can see what my presence is doing to you. It's hurting you, and that hurts me just as much as it hurts you."

He turned to go to his room when she reached out and grabbed his arm. He turned back, albeit reluctantly, and she just looked at him. "Please," she said quietly. "All jokes about my love for pain aside. I need you to be here. I don't want to be alone tonight. Please."

Despite everything, Greg's heart beat faster with the words he had longed to hear for years. He allowed Sara to take his hand and lead him to her room, even as his every instinct was telling him to run the other way for self-preservation's sake. An ironic thought struck his mind—the last time he hadn't listened to his self-preservation instincts was the Demetrius James incident, and look at how that turned out.

Still, he couldn't just leave Sara. After all, he reasoned with himself as he walked into her hotel room and she closed the door behind him, they still had a lot more to talk about.


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N:** __Ah, Sandle. This chapter is full of sweet, sweet Sandle. Does that mean that the rest of the story will reflect that? Well, you'll just have to wait and see! I know this is a quick update, but I leave Saturday, and I want to get all of this up before I go. Usual disclaimer applies. Please read and review!_

Chapter 11

"_Remember the line  
Never say die?  
You were the reason I survived"_

Greg sat on the edge of the bed in Sara's hotel room, watching her as she paced throughout the room. They had spent the last fifteen minutes in silence, as both Greg and Sara tried to figure out what they were both doing there. Finally, Greg sighed deeply and said quietly, "You know, I can just leave if you want."

Sara looked over at him, startled. "No, I don't want you to leave," she said, running a hand through her hair. "I'm just trying to figure out how we go about doing this. There are so many things I want to say…" She paused and shook her head. "I just don't know how to say it."

Patting the bed next to him, Greg raised an eyebrow and half-smiled. "Well, you're not the only one who has things to say. So why don't you sit down next to me, and while you're figuring out how to best say the things you want to, I can say the things that I've been waiting to say."

Though she looked reluctant, Sara sat down next to him. She even let Greg put his arm around her, snuggling against him just as she had done so many times before when they were best friends in Vegas. Of course, this wasn't Vegas, and they both knew that there was a difference here and now. But for the moment, neither really cared.

Greg stroked Sara's hair gently, closing his eyes and feeling her in his arms. Finally, he shifted so that he could look her in the eyes. He would need to be able to see her eyes for what he was about to tell her. "Sara," he said gently, trying to muster up all the courage that he had in order to say what he had come all this way to say. "Sara, I have something to tell you, something that I think you and I have both known for a long time." She looked up at him, silent and unblinking, obviously waiting for him to say it. He took a deep breath, and then he said what he had waited years to say. "Sara, I love you."

She didn't looked surprised to hear that, but she didn't look completely unhappy, either. Still, she sighed deeply and looked down. "You're right, Greg," she said, avoiding his gaze. "You and I have both known for a long time that you love me. I've known it since before I became your mentor, and I hoped that somehow you would find a way to get over it, and to move on, I guess."

"And that didn't happen," Greg said, more for his benefit than for hers. "How could it? I don't just love you, Sara, I'm in love with you. Ever since I met you…how could you think that I would just be able to get over that?"

Shrugging, Sara sighed again. "I don't know," she answered. "I hoped that you would see that I was in love with Grissom, and then you would be able to move on. And I thought that you were. You didn't…well, you didn't follow me around like a little lost puppy anymore."

Greg smiled, but his smile was sad. "I wasn't getting over you, I was just getting better at hiding how much I loved you. And I wasn't going to do anything to screw up our friendship, especially since I got to spend so much time with you. And then by the time I got up the courage to tell you, it was too late."

"I was already with Grissom," Sara said slowly, in realization. "But that still didn't stop you?"

"How could it?" Greg asked sadly. "I had loved you for years while you loved Grissom. And besides, despite everything, I always had hope that one day, you would realize that I loved you, and that you loved me, too. I know that sounds stupid, but I had this endless hope."

Sara looked confused. "But how could you have so much hope, when I know for a fact I didn't give you any?"

Shrugging, Greg said, "For starters, I'm a naturally optimistic person. But also, you did give me hope. Remember when I…when I was attacked?"

"How could I forget?" she whispered, reaching up with trembling fingers to trace the scar at his hairline. "It was horrible. I will never be able to get the image of you lying there like that out of my mind."

He reached out and captured her hand in his, stroking it comfortingly. "It was horrible," he agreed, a small smile on his face, "and yet…your simple presence, the fact that you were there for me, that was enough to reignite any hope that I had ever felt."

Sara looked away from him, a sadness in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Greg," she whispered. "I didn't mean to instill any false hope in you."

"Was it false hope?" Greg asked suddenly, his voice sounding off.

Looking up at him, confused, Sara asked, "What do you mean, was it false hope?"

Lowering his face so that he was only a few inches from her, Greg asked quietly, "Was it false hope? Or is there still hope, real hope, that you could turn to me and tell me that you love me?"

She took a trembling breath. "Greg—" she started, but he cut her off.

"Sara." Greg looked her deep in the eyes, his face still only inches from hers. "If you told me now that you didn't love me," he said quietly, his eyes determined. "If you told me that you only loved Grissom, and not me, then I would leave right now. But I don't believe that. I believe that you love me just as much as I love you. And I think that that's what's killing you: the fact that you love me and you also love him." Then he paused, a new thought entering his head. "But Grissom's not the one standing here right now."

"No, he's not," Sara agreed softly, her eyes searching his.

"And Grissom's not the one who followed you here. If anything, Grissom's the one who let you go and who is able to get over you." Greg paused again, then said softly, "But Sara, I'm not Grissom. And I'm sure as hell not going to make his mistakes. I will never be the man who let you go, who watched you walk away and didn't follow. I will be the man who loves you forever, no matter what. And nothing you or anyone else says will ever change that."

Sara didn't say anything this time, so Greg took a deep breath and said softly, "So tell me, Sara. Tell me that you only love Grissom. Tell me that you don't love me the way that I love you. Tell me. Tell me!"

She just looked up at him, tears sparkling in her eyes. "I can't," she whispered. "You know I can't."

"I thought so," Greg said. There was no triumph in his voice, only relief and love for her. Then he leaned in and kissed her.

He was shocked that she let him kiss her; he was even more shocked when she kissed him back, putting her arms around his neck and leaning into his embrace. He broke away from her just long enough to whisper "I love you," against her lips, and he was amazed when she whispered back, "I love you, too." Then he kissed her again. And again. And again. He could not get over the fact that they had finally reached this place that he had been dreaming about for years. And it was just as amazing as it had always been.

Then they broke apart again, still holding onto each other. "You said earlier that your heart was being torn in two," he said softly, resting his forehead on hers. "Mine is torn, too. Part of me wants to take you back to Las Vegas with me, so that we can live our lives together in the place that's home to both of us. The other part of me knows that that's never going to happen, and so that part is preparing me to leave everything behind so that I can follow you to wherever you run next."

Sara was silent for a moment, just stroking Greg's cheek with the tips of her fingers. Finally, she said quietly, "I have a lot to think about. You've given me a lot to think about. So I think I'm going to go to bed and we can start this conversation again in the morning."

Greg smiled hopefully as he stood. "Can I spend the night with you?" he asked boldly.

Though Sara smiled briefly at his tenacity, she shook her head, something hidden in her eyes. "I don't think that's a good idea," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "We should definitely talk tomorrow, though. What do you say we meet at the Golden Gate Park at, like, ten o'clock?" She stood, stretching to press a kiss onto his forehead. Then she stepped back, eyes studying his face as if memorizing it.

Greg leaned down and kissed her on the forehead as well. "Good night," he said lovingly.

She smiled, though her smile wasn't as bright as before. "Good bye," she said, walking him to the door.

He leaned over and kissed the top of her head once more, grabbing her hand and squeezing. "Bye," he said, unable to keep a smile from his face. "I'll see you tomorrow. Ten at the Golden Gate Bridge Park."

"Right," she affirmed, nodding.

She made to close the door, but Greg stopped her. "I love you," he said, his voice full of sincerity.

Her eyes softened, but she didn't open the door again. "I know," she whispered as she closed the door.

Greg turned to walk back to his hotel room, a huge smile spreading over his face. This night had been amazing, and now he had tomorrow to look forward to as well, and he couldn't wait.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"_Where did you go?  
I need to know  
I waited here, you never showed"_

Greg woke early the next morning. He couldn't help it; his dreams that night had been filled with Sara, especially the thought of their kiss. He couldn't wait for their meeting today at the park. Crossing to his window, he peeked through the blinds, instantly perking up. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day. The sun was shining, there wasn't a cloud in the sky, and Greg's heart felt lighter than it felt in about eight years.

He made himself some coffee, surprising himself by whistling as he brewed the coffee. He was just in a great mood. As he sat on his bed and sipped his coffee, however, his mood turned contemplative. He had hardly thought about Vegas since he had finally found Sara, and he remembered what he had told her last night: "_Part of me wants to take you back to Las Vegas with me, so that we can live our lives together in the place that's home to both of us. The other part of me knows that that's never going to happen, and so that part is preparing me to leave everything behind so that I can follow you to wherever you run next."_

And he had meant every word of that. In his perfect fantasy world, he and Sara would live together in Vegas and still work at the crime lab, and the only thing that would change would be his relationship with Sara. Reality, on the other hand, begged a different story, and Greg suspected he would have to follow this one. He knew in his heart that Sara would never go back to Vegas, just as she wouldn't be staying in San Francisco. She had been running from heartache too long to face it now. And if she ran again, this time, Greg would be running with her.

Sure, he would miss Vegas. He would miss Nick, and Catherine and Warrick, and, believe it or not, even Grissom. But he would miss, he had missed, Sara even more. And where she was is where he needed to be, and nothing would stand in the way of that.

Glancing down at his watch, Greg drank the rest of his coffee in one gulp. He had spent more time than he had thought lost in his reverie, and he needed to hurry if he was going to meet Sara at the park. Quickly showering and getting dressed, Greg ran out the door without giving a second thought to what he had been thinking of before.

When Greg arrived at the park, at the same moment the clock in his car turned to ten o'clock on the dot, he realized their mistake. Sara had just told him to meet her at the park, but Golden Gate Park was huge, and she hadn't specified where to meet her. Still, Greg wasn't worried. It was a gorgeous day out, and he wouldn't mind walking around a bit to find her.

He parked near the Beach Chalet, and started his search there. There was no Sara on any of the three floors, though he enjoyed the bird's-eye-view model of San Francisco, and even debated over buying a tacky San Francisco t-shirt in the gift shop. However, he decided against it, instead leaving the chalet and heading deeper into the park.

As he walked, he pulled his cell phone out and called hers. It rang five times before heading to voicemail. He felt a smile spread across his face as he heard her voice reciting this familiar message. "Hi, you've reached Sara Sidle, please leave your name and number after the beep."

"Good morning," he said cheerfully once it beeped. "I hope you didn't forget about our plan to meet at the park, because if you slept in, I'm going to be very angry. Anyway, call me when you get this, so we can meet and continue our conversation."

He shut his cell phone and put it back in his pocket. He would just have to wait for Sara, and if she didn't give him a call within the next twenty minutes or so, he would head over to the hotel to wake her up. After all, that was the only reason why she wouldn't answer her phone, and after their emotional night, he didn't think any less of her for sleeping as long as she could.

Instead, he decided to enjoy himself. It was beautiful day out, and there was no point sitting in his car when he could just as easily stroll around the park. So, he took a complimentary map and headed for the first place that seemed remotely interesting to him: the buffalo paddock.

Greg couldn't remember if he had ever seen bison before. Even if he had, however, their massive size took him by surprise. They were huge, absolutely giant, and Greg stared at them, completely mesmerized. He must've stood there for a good half an hour, just watching the colossal beasts as they calmly grazed and, really, didn't do much else.

Then, suddenly, one raised its giant head and bellowed loudly, which amazed Greg even more. Much to his chagrin, however, the bison seemed to take this as a sign. They all turned and galloped—for lack of a better term—farther into their enclosure, where they could no longer be seen.

It was then that Greg realized how long he had been standing there, and his forehead creased in a mix of annoyance and worry. Where could Sara be? And, more importantly, why hadn't she answered his phone call?

He decided to call her again, hoping that this time, his phone call would wake her up. However, his hopes were dashed as her phone rang its five times and headed to voicemail. This time, Sara's greetings did not bring a smile to his face. Instead, he just looked more concerned. Sighing, he waited for the beep, then said, his concern evident in his voice, "Hey, Sara. I don't know where you are, and I would appreciate a call back. Anyway, I'm going to…" He checked the map. "The carousal, so if you could meet me there, that'd be great. And hey, if I don't hear from you soon, I'm going to head back to the hotel to look for you, ok? So call me!"

Hanging up, he ran a hand through his hair. This was beginning to worry him. It wasn't like Sara to avoid his phone calls, but it also wasn't like her to sleep through something this important.

He headed towards the carousal, since that was where he had said he was going to be. He glanced up at the sky, suddenly surprised. Clouds were amassing in the perfect blue sky, hinting of possible rain in the not so distant future.

Greg got to the carousal and sat down on a bench near it. He was still worried, and the fact that Sara had not yet called him was not alleviating his fears any. He checked his phone every few seconds, as if he would miss it ringing, but it was silent in his hand.

He just didn't understand why she wouldn't call him. She had no reason not to call him; she wasn't mad at him, at least, not that he knew of. Sighing, Greg stood, ready to head back to his car and go back to the hotel and find Sara and demand answers from her. Why had she not come see him today? Why had she stood him up? The answer hit him like a ton of bricks.

She was running again. This had all been a ruse to keep him away for long enough that she could run away without him knowing where she was going.

Swaying slightly with the realization, Greg reached out for the bench for support. His entire body felt like it was shutting down. Even worse, the sky opened up, with rain pouring down on him. He barely noticed it, though; his mind was scrambling to think of any hint from the previous night's conversation that would have led him to this conclusion much sooner. The only thing that he could think of was the way she had said good-bye the previous night. Not good night, but good-bye.

His heart felt like it was going to stop beating. He should've seen this coming. Greg stood there, looking up at the sky, the torrents of rain soaking his clothes and running in rivers down his face. "Why?" he asked aloud, his tears mingling with the rain. "Why did I fall for it? I knew she was going to run again."

He had never felt stupider in his life. He should've known that this was going to happen. How could he have let himself believe that it was going to be different, when she had left the love of her life, Grissom, behind with barely a second thought? He meant nothing to her, and he never had.

With that realization, his heart crumbled into a million pieces.

Then he took a deep breath, slowly clearing his mind. He could not, whatever he did, let this break him. He could not let this break his heart into a million pieces, because then he would forget everything that he had been through to get this far. If he let this break him, he would turn into Grissom, and let Sara go in a simple act of self-preservation. But he could not do that, because Sara only thought that this was what she wanted.

Greg knew better. He knew that she did not keep running forever. And he would chase her until she was ready to stop running. He loved her that much.

Mind made up, Greg turned to head back to his car. He had another search to begin all over again, only this time, he had no clue where she might be running to.


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N:** __Second to last chapter. This chapter is the last one that takes place in San Francisco. This chapter was hard to write, I admit. But when it was done, this is easily one of my favorite chapters that I have written for any story. I hope you all like it, too._

Chapter 13

"_It's gonna be harder for me  
I can't forgive so many things  
When you weren't there  
I was around  
Why would you try to hurt me now?  
Just tell me why  
Just tell me why"_

Greg had never driven so fast in his life. All he knew, all he kept repeating to himself, was that he had to get to the hotel in time to stop Sara, or, at the very least, he had to figure out where she was going next, and then he would have to go there. There just wasn't any other option for him. She was his one and only, whether or not he was hers, and he was not going to let her just walk out of his life again.

He pulled into the hotel parking lot, found the first parking spot he saw and instantly turned his car off and ran for Sara's room. Again, he didn't think he had ever run that fast before, either. But run he did, and when he got to her door, he pounded on it with both fists. "Sara, it's me," he called. "Let me in! I'm not going to let you do this! Not again!"

There was no answer.

After another minute of ferocious pounding, Greg gave up. He turned to survey the parking lot, trying to find Sara's car. He didn't see it, and his heart sank even further. She was gone. He was too late.

Still, Greg had to check, so he headed to the front desk, hoping that they wouldn't know anything about Sara's departure, that she wouldn't have checked out already. There was still hope that somehow wormed its way into Greg's heart, against his better notions. This hope was quashed, however, when he entered the reception area and the receptionist was the same as when he first arrived. She looked up and smiled in recognition. "Mr. Sanders!" she exclaimed.

Greg tried to force a smile onto his face; it came out as more of a grimace. "Hi," he said, approaching the desk. "Um, I had a question for you—"

"Before you even ask, Mr. Sanders, she left at exactly seven-thirty this morning," the receptionist responded, far too perky for the news she was delivering. When Greg didn't respond, instead staring at her without blinking, the woman blushed. "Um, well, the woman you asked about—party name of Sidle—checked out at seven-thirty this morning and I thought that since you were looking for her before, you would want to know about this, so I figured that I would tell you before you asked."

This very long ramble was followed by Greg's continued silence. He was in shock and disbelief. She had left while he was still sleeping. She had left just as she had before, when no one was suspecting anything. When he wouldn't be able to stop her.

He felt tears beginning to well his eyes, and so he turned away slightly so that the receptionist wouldn't see him. "Thanks," he told her thickly, still trying to hold himself together just enough to make it to his room, where he could come to pieces without anyone seeing him.

"Oh, Mr. Sanders?" the receptionist called as Greg started to walk away. He paused, though he didn't turn back.

"Yes?" he asked dully.

"She left this for you."

Greg was back over at the desk in an instant, all traces of tears gone, replaced by unbridled hope. "Where is it? What is it? What did she leave me?" he asked eagerly, like a starving man being offered food.

The receptionist looked confused for a moment, but then her face smoothed. "She left you this," she said, handing a thin white envelope over to Greg. "Don't worry, sir, I didn't read it, I promise."

The slightly envious tone in her voice implied that she would've loved reading whatever was in the envelope, but she had kept her word and had not read the contents. Still, Greg felt his heart sinking as he took the envelope. He almost didn't want to know what was in there because it would almost certainly cause him more heartache. "Thank you," he responded in the same dull voice from earlier, and then he left to head back to his room in order to read whatever Sara had left him in peace.

When he got back to his room, he went inside, put the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the door and closed it and locked it. Then he went to his bed, sat down, and opened the envelope. There were two things inside: a folded letter and a postcard. Greg set the postcard aside without looking at it and turned his attention to the letter. His eyes blurred with tears even as he read the first words:

"Greg…dear, dear Greg…you are the first and only best friend I've ever had, and I couldn't ask for a better one. I love you more than you will ever know, and, yes, before you ask, some of those feelings are romantic. But they are something that I cannot act on now. I don't know if they are something I will ever be able to act on.

"As much as I know you don't want to hear it, I still love Grissom. For a very long time, he was the only reason why I lived. He is my soul, in many ways. Grissom and I have a relationship that is very hard to understand. I don't even understand it most of the time. But I will always love Grissom, just as I will always love you.

"My time in Las Vegas is defined by the love that I felt. They say that home is where the heart is, and if that's true, then Las Vegas was and always will be my home for as long as you and Grissom are there. You are the first two men that have ever really loved me, and, at the same time, you are the first two men that I have ever really loved. And I want to thank you for that. You have no idea how much you mean to me.

"But I can't go back to Las Vegas. Not now, and possibly not ever. Right now, the love in Vegas is shrouded by the ghosts of my past, ghosts that I need to bury. And I can't do that in Vegas. I can't stay there with my past haunting me, because it's leading me down a path that I don't know where it goes. And I can't be there for you and Grissom to see me so lost. So I'm leaving again. In your words, I'm running again.

"Somehow, though, I don't see it as running away from my past. I know that you see it that way, but it's not true. I'm running to face my past, and this is something I need to do by myself away from you. Perhaps you feel like I'm running away from you, then. That's also not true. I could never run away from you because you are one of the most important people in my life. I'm running again because I have to face my past in order to face my future. I only hope that you will wait for me to get my life together, and I hope that through it all, you will remain my best friend, because I couldn't stand it if I lost you.

"I have a request for you, however. Actually, I have two requests for you. The first is one that you don't want to hear, but I need you to do this for me. I need you to let Grissom know that I will be calling him soon. I want you to do this for me so that the healing process can hopefully begin for not just me and Grissom, but also for you and Grissom. I know it will take time for you to learn to respect him again, but you need to learn to respect him again because he is your boss, and he is also your mentor. You look up to him, which is what makes this even harder for you. By letting him know that I am getting in contact with him, you're reaching out to him and beginning to mend those bridges. Hopefully, in time, you will learn to forgive Grissom for what he did or did not do, and that's something that is extremely important to me. I don't want to have the two men in my life at odds with each other, especially over me.

"Now for my second request. I know this is going to be even harder for you than forgiving Grissom, but this is even more important than before. I do not want you to follow me. I know, I know, every bone and muscle in your body is screaming to come after me, because I know that you love me, and I know that you've somehow promised to yourself that you're never going to let me go. But Greg, I can't have you coming after me, because like I said before, I need to do this on my own, and I won't be able to truly heal if I think that you're coming after me. So please, if you want me to be able to come back ever, don't follow me. Let me run. Let me hide, if that's what you think I'm doing. But let me do it my way.

"Thank you for giving me the opportunity to say good-bye for you, even if you didn't know it was good-bye at the time. It means a lot to me to be able to have the opportunity, because it makes this just a little more bearable.

"I love you, Greg. You are a huge piece of my life, and I would never trade that for everything. If Grissom is my soul, then you are my heart. I hope that one day, you will be able to forgive me. I love you, really and truly.

"Good-bye. Always remember that you are my best friend, and no one will ever take that away from you."

Greg closed his eyes, just letting the tears flow. The paper was already spotted with his tears from reading the letter. He had thought that he had wanted closure, that he had wanted the opportunity to say good-bye. Now that he had heard her good-bye, he knew that he would rather have the fantasy world he had allowed himself to live in. It was easier, and it hurt a hell of a lot less.

He didn't know how long he sat there, just crying by himself in a hotel room in San Francisco, more alone than he had ever been. Finally, though, he ran out of tears, and then he remembered the postcard. He picked it up from where he had set it. The back was blank, and he turned it over with trembling hands. His eyes filled with tears again, not at the picture, which was a typical touristy picture of the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco beyond it, but at the sentiment typed on the front: "I left my heart in San Francisco."


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N:** __Well, this is it: the last chapter. I hope you all enjoyed reading it. I certainly enjoyed writing it. Thanks to all my readers and reviewers, and ask, of course, that you please review!_

Chapter 14

"_Did you run away?  
Did you fall apart?  
Do you see yourself for what you are?  
Will you be looking for it anymore?  
When five becomes four  
When you're all alone  
With the melody  
Do you close your eyes and think of me?  
Will you still hear me singing anymore?  
When five becomes four"_

It was a long car ride back to Las Vegas, and with every mile, Greg's life seemed to get a little emptier. He didn't even want to turn to music for comfort because every song on the radio seemed to remind him of Sara, and it was like rubbing salt into an open wound. There was a hollowness to him now, something that couldn't be cured by listening to music or reading a letter that was supposed to bring him closure.

What was worse was that none of this seemed to change how Greg felt towards Sara. He still thought of her with every beat of her heart, still hated the fact that he couldn't follow her, and, more than everything, he still loved her just as much as he had before.

There was a certain understanding, now, though. Some level of enlightenment that he hadn't reached before, something that maybe he was meant to learn from this, and that was that his love for Sara did not need to be reciprocated. He loved her, and as much as that hurt him and as much as he wished he could stop loving her and move on, somehow, his love for her coupled with their friendship was enough to keep him going when he felt like he was going to collapse in pain all over again. There was a strength that came with this, a strength he had never suspected that he had.

His cell phone rang, and he picked it up with little enthusiasm for who might be calling. The screen read, "Grissom," and Greg just sighed and tossed his phone onto the seat next to him. He couldn't bring himself to talk to Grissom; not now, not when the wound was still fresh.

Instead, he focused his attention on the road. He had a long way to go.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxX

After his exhausting drive back to Vegas, Greg wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bed and go to sleep, but he figured he had spent enough time away from work, so he might as well head in. After all, his dreams tonight were undeniably going to be haunted with images of Sara, and that was something that he wasn't willing to subject himself to at the moment.

Once Greg arrived at work, he ducked into the locker room, hoping to avoid seeing anyone. His strategy failed miserably, as Grissom was waiting for him in the locker room. "Where have you been?" Grissom demanded, looking years older than when Greg had seen him last. "I called you this afternoon, and you didn't answer. Greg, you can't just take vacation time without telling anyone--"

"I told Catherine where I was going," Greg shot back, opening his locker with more force than entirely necessary. "She was supposed to relay the message onto you."

Grissom merely raised an eyebrow and completed his earlier statement. "You can't just take vacation time without telling anyone where you were going."

Greg looked away, hoping Grissom hadn't seen his face. "Oh," he said in a small voice. "Well. Catherine was supposed to tell you that, too, if you asked. Obviously you didn't ask."

"I did ask," Grissom said calmly, though his brow furrowed in frustration. "She said that she wasn't going to get involved, that it was between you and me. So, Greg," he continued, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Where did you go?"

Turning slowly to face Grissom, Greg felt his heartbeat speed up. Now that it was actually time to face Grissom and say what he had been planning on saying, he didn't know if he could actually bring himself to do so. All the fire had gone out of him; now, all he wanted for this to be over. Still, he said what he had meant to all along. "I went to do what you should've done in the first place," Greg said, his voice quiet and introverted. It contained none of the hostility that it had when he had told it to Catherine. Now, it was just a simple statement of fact.

Grissom's face shuffled through a variety of emotions, from surprise to pain to anger and back to pain. Finally, he settled on a calm, detached look, the same one he wore when a crime scene was particularly tragic. "I'll take it you went to San Francisco, then."

Greg nodded without speaking, not trusting himself to say anything. Grissom looked at the young CSI who had once stepped into the role of protégé with little effort, a role that he now seemed to protest at every turn. "Why did you go after her, Greg?" he found himself asking, a sort of bitter sadness in his voice. "You knew she wasn't going to come back."

Greg put his vest on, not meeting Grissom's eyes for a moment. When he finally did, Grissom was surprised to see tears in Greg's eyes. "Because I had to try," answered Greg finally, his eyes hardening. "Because that's what it means to love someone. You go after them, and you try to make them come back, because you love them too much to let them go. Even when they say no, even when they say they can't come back, now or ever, even when—" He trailed off for a moment, tears glinting in his eyes again. "Even when they say that they don't love you enough to come back, you still have to try."

Grissom was silent, Greg's words hitting him harder than punches. Greg was implying that Grissom didn't love Sara, at least not as much as Greg did. After a long moment, Grissom cleared his throat and asked softly, "Will you…will you tell her that I'm sorry that it wasn't me who came after her?"

"Tell her yourself," said Greg, equally quiet. "She said to tell you that she'll be giving you a call." Turning away, Greg looked back for just a moment, and in that moment, Grissom saw how defeated Greg really was. Then he turned away again, and the moment was lost.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxX

Later, Greg was in the lab, laying out the vic's clothes to look them over for trace. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he flipped it open without checking to see who it was. "Sanders."

There was a brief pause, then Sara's voice said softly, "Greg."

Greg's heart seemed to stop for a minute, and even after everything that had happened, he couldn't stop a small smile from touching his face. "Hey."

After another brief pause, Sara asked, almost timidly, "Did you give Grissom my message?"

The smile slid off Greg's face, and for a moment, he looked as if he was tempted to throw his cell phone, or to smash it to pieces then and there. Instead, he took a deep breath, and, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible, he said calmly, "Yes."

"Good," said Sara, her tone even. "Then I won't ever have to mention it or Grissom to you again."

That statement seemed to imply that Sara was planning on talking to Greg more than just this phone call, and Greg couldn't stop his heart from leaping with hope. Still, the realist in him was unconvinced, and so he asked her, again trying to keep his tone as calm and friendly as possible, "What are you doing, Sara? Why are you calling me like this?"

Another pause, but this time, when Sara responded, there was a warmth in her voice that Greg had only heard directed at him a handful of times. "Why am I calling you? Greg, I thought that would obvious. I'm trying to keep you in my life, even though I'm not in Vegas anymore, even though I don't know when or if I'll be back, ever. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Of course it's what I want," responded Greg, his voice softening. "I always want you to be a part of my life, and I want to be a part of yours. We're still best friends, after all, and we always will be."

There was a smile in Sara's voice, and she said, "Good. I'm glad that you're giving me permission to call you on occasion, then. That's all I really wanted. And Greg…" She trailed off, then said, in a quieter voice, "Thank you for being my friend. Even after everything that happened, everything that I said or did."

Greg shrugged, even though she couldn't see it. "It's part of the territory, you know," he said, trying for humor. "It happens to be in the job description for best friend. You may want to brush up on your best friend skills if we're going to make this work, though. And besides, I learned something from all of this, that, no matter what your feelings are, I can still love you, even if you don't love me. And I'm not going to let what's happened or whatever will happen in the future stop me from loving you." After a pause, he added, only half-joking, "But whatever happens, I'm going to hold you to what you said earlier: I don't want to hear a word about Grissom and what goes on with him."

Chuckling dryly, Sara promised, "I won't tell you anything that you won't want to know. After all, I don't even know how long Grissom and I can keep this up with each other. His life and mine intersected for so long that the course we took seemed almost natural, but now, our lives have split, and I'm not sure if there's something I can or should do about it."

"Well, what about your life and mine?" Greg asked, unable to help himself, though he wasn't really sure if he wanted to know the answer. "Our lives have split, gone on separate tracks. Does that mean…does that mean that you don't know how long we can keep this up, either?"

Sara's voice softened. "No, Greg, that's not what I'm implying at all. You and I have a different relationship to being with, and our lives haven't split the way that mine and Grissom's have."

Again, Greg couldn't just leave well enough alone, and he insisted, "But you moved away, right? So doesn't that mean that our lives have split just like yours and Grissom's split?"

"No," said Sara simply, her answer firm. "Our lives didn't split that way because you came after me. You reforged or reaffirmed our connection."

Greg couldn't stop himself from smiling, a full smile this time. "I did come after you, didn't I?" he asked, more to himself than her.

She smiled as well; he could hear it in her voice. "Yes, you did. And that's what makes all the difference."


End file.
